Point of Divergence
by ZoMg1010
Summary: Ivy Feldberg is mysteriously and unexpectedly thrusted into the world of Durarara! Despite not wanting to do anything with the characters she loves, her very existence will change the course of history. Change will come, and whether she likes it or not, there's nothing she can do to stop it./ Rated T for now.
1. Prologue

**I really shouldn't be doing another story, but this has been stuck in my head for A LONG TIME. So...don't hate me, but it involves an OC entering into the world of Drrrr! Please give it a chance if you want, but this is mostly for my peace of mind.**

**I wanted to mimic the Drrrr!'s style of story-telling, but it's rather pathetic compared to it, so sorry for this crappy, choppy style. I tried my best. Anyway, hope you enjoy.  
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Prologue

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This is Ikebukuro.

This is a place filled with many secrets and happiness, a place full of colorful characters.

There's that large foreign man passing out flyers with a smile kinder than a monk's, yet everyone ignores him and his attempt to make people happy. Then there's the people that pass by him that actually give him the time of day.

A blond man in a bartender outfit is walking along side a darker skinned man with a level of calm the former doesn't seem to have. They both wave at the large flyer man and he greets them back with a wider smile.

Just creeping right behind those two men walks another one that seems up to no good. His deviant smile on those handsome, but mischief, features causes many to look at him with distrust. He doesn't mind it, since he loves his dear humans. The flyer man spoke to the mischief one in a language not known to many people bustling in the streets. They share friendly waves, though the native one seemed half-hearted as he did so, and parted ways.

A taller man with a hood hiding his handsome hair walks just by the untruthful one, telling him to shut up once he heard the words, "Hey, Dota-chin." He clucks his tongue at the other man and continues to his destination. His wise eyes glance at the flyer man.

"Sup, Simon," he says. He smiles as Simon spoke to him in a way that makes him genuinely laugh. He waves over his shoulder once his large friend was out of his sight. His other destination is not far where the Russia Sushi restaurant is and silently anticipates joining the group of friends he loves.

Then walking around a corner is one high school student with a wide, excited grin. His dyed blond hair bounces in rhythm with his movements as he quickly makes his way towards the subway station. He seems happy, and if you were to ask him why, he would say something along the lines of, "There are a couple of hot chicks just waiting to be hit on by a guy like me! Gotta run!"

But the truth is, his childhood friend is coming and his presence makes him feel at peace, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

The blond fifteen year old greets and waves at Simon then runs off towards where his friend was supposed to be dropped off.

This is Ikebukuro.

Many know the darkness that lurks in the shadows of this city. They are people with secrets, they are people who know pain, and the underground of Bukuro is where all the dangers lurk from.

There are two people who have experienced and done all sorts of things for the underground world. You may not know it just by looking at them. Those two right there, walking into a manga store talking animatedly. They are funny and dependable, but they have done things best left unspoken about. The girl, despite her chirpy, happy voice, has been through pain worse than your average person. Her companion, the quirky guy with a weird fetish for the "little sister character" continues to dabble in his past with his friend. They know how to kill. They know how to torture.

They are happy people, but do not overlook them just because of their weird personalities: they are not to be trifled with.

There are others working for the underground, like the doctor in the top floor of an apartment building. He looks down at the city as his glasses glare up from the lighting below. A small, happy grin is placed on his face as he thinks about his little fairy coming home, if not for a little while.

Then there are the normal people, the "tourists". They know nothing of the other side and wish to be ignorant of all the horrendous things happening right under their nose if they have any say in it.

Some don't have a choice.

That girl right there, walking past the crowd of people with a stoic expression. Her dead-like eyes, focusing on nothing as she makes her way to where her friend said to meet up, hide what she really feels deep inside. Fear.

Many will not notice this cute girl with the cute pigtails and a dead face. Some will. They will take wonder of her mysterious presence and silently question where she's going, but five minutes later…they will forget her and never know what will happen.

They will go on with their lives not knowing that she had been one of those people that had wanted a life without secrets, or anger, or pain. No one else, besides herself, will know what she wants to do with her "life".

All but two.

That deviant man from earlier is the reason for her grief. He played and manipulated her to his satisfaction just because he felt like it. He will rile her up. Make her thoughts worse than before, and he will give her that final _push_. But that's only because he is an informant, and it's his job to know the humans he loves.

But the other one.

No one knows who she is, not even that cruel informant.

Long, black hair is in a messy tangle from all the dirt, grease, and dirty water plastered on it. Her pale skin is smeared and stained with blood and dirt, her cut up outfit as well. Dull brown eyes sway back and forth between the people rushing her in front of her and the sushi restaurant just across the street. Not many take notice to her. To them, she is just another illegal alien lost on the streets.

The girl is terrified. Heart pounding against her chest like a hammer, palms sweaty as she laid on the dirty ground, her mouth is kept ajar from the silent scream she is repressing. No one knows, and no one cares, and that is fine.

This is Ikebukuro.

Despite the population, and the people, there are many magical occurrences all happening at once.

There is a Dullahan drifting with her steed along the sleek road so she could go home, not knowing that she will leave once again for an assignment.

A lonely, beautiful head floats in a tube but it is not disturbing to observe, on the contrary, looking at it…it seems complete.

An aloof girl curls into a ball as her companion whispers its gory love for humanity in her head.

That one terrified girl wishes everything she is seeing is all in her stupid, imaginative brain of hers.

And this is where the story begins.

The Russian man continues to hand out flyers with a friendly smile that many seem to miss.

The bartender and his friend have reached their destination for a debt collection.

The guy constantly hiding his hair is out with his friends, laughing and smiling.

The clandestine informant is waiting patiently for his victim to be swallowed whole.

The young boy has reunited with his shy friend.

A few miles away, two people can be seen talking, one with a cheeky grin, and the other headless, but real.

The aloof girl looks out her window and conjures up a fake reality.

The mysterious cute girl with the cute pigtails grows more nervous as she reaches her destination, denying how much she did not want to die.

The beautiful head is still floating around the water-filled tube, eyes closed as if she is alive, breathing and asleep.

And the confused and terrified woman on the streets?

The girl knows where she is and what is to come. She knows these people inside out. She loves them with all her heart, yet…she is terrified. Her heart has accepted this fact, but not her mind. The logical part of her head is begging for her to see reality. This is all just one screwed up mirage her brain made up because she does not know how to cope with her current situation, but she knows that isn't true.

What will happen to her, she wonders. How will she get home?

She thinks back _what home_, and soon her brown eyes closes, blacking out the beautiful night filled with people who took no notice of the fainting girl.

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**If you aren't disgusted yet, then please leave feedback. I love criticism, mind you, not FLAMES.**


	2. Chapter 1: Mirage

**I'm actually surprised people took the time to read and review. I honestly thought this story wouldn't get any hits or readers or reviewers. I'm happy about it, despite this story not going to get popular, at least some people are willing to read this.**

**And regards to Logged Out's review, the reason I put OCxno one, is to make it clear that my OC will have NO romantic relationships with any of the Drrrrr! cast. I'm sorry if that's confusing, I just think people will assume my OC is mary-sueish and not take the time to read my story.**

**Anyway, I think this chapter is kind of...confusing. The time plot are scattered around, but again, I wanted something like Drrrr! with a hint of Baccano's style as well.**

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Mirage

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_This is just another normal night._

_The man with the dark clothing and equally dark grin skips throughout the streets of Ikebukuro, feeling happier for what happened earlier. He hums a tune not known by anyone, only himself. People avoid the overly happy man, and he begins to think how wonderfully interesting his beloved humans are._

_This night…something changes._

_Sharp, brown eyes narrow at the body not too far from where he is standing. As he walks closer, he begins to notice that she is a female and a foreigner. He notices the bruises, cuts and the abused clothing she has on and comes to a conclusion that something terrible has happened to her. He doesn't care, so he continues onward._

_Because he thinks this night is like any other, the cunning man went about his routine and doesn't look back. But curiosity gets the best of him._

_He is annoyed when he looks over his shoulder at the girl better left forgotten. She is the same…maybe dead, maybe not. Brown eyes looks over the girl, eyes narrowing on the deeply purple bruise hugging her left leg. Maybe it is her long, cut up skirt, or her ripped turtleneck, or even the obvious deep cuts on her exposed skin that makes him change his mind. _

_Many do not know this, but he isn't a complete monster. He has saved many lives, just as many he has taken…all indirectly, of course. He is capable of compassion. Therefore, even knowing he is going to regret this later on, he went to the unconscious girl._

_Ignoring her torn up clothes, the informant picks her up, surprised at how light she is despite her appearance. But then again, maybe her heavy clothing is to blame. Annoyance dominates his features as he looks upon this stupid girl, but continues towards Russia Sushi for assistance._

_This was supposed to be like any other night. However this single change of routine will forever break apart what little normalcy this city has to offer. _

_For him, the sly informant who rather let his dear human rot, but chose not to for reason only for him to know._

_For those two boys now asleep in the comfort of their own homes._

_For her, the aloof girl dreaming of things she shouldn't._

_For the doctor and his mysterious companion._

_For the angry blond man grumbling something about shit._

_For the group of friends still out late at night simply because they refuse to leave their bliss._

_And for her…the girl with the mysterious presence and dead-like eyes. _

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When I dream, it's of happy times.

I can see my young self calling out to someone with the most beautiful blotch of yellow paint on my right cheek. I giggle as I try to do the same to the person that had stained me so playfully. Then, for some reason, I begin to cry.

I drop the paintbrush, dropping down onto my knees as I stare up at the terrifying sky where a ceiling is supposed to protect me. Droplets of raindrops unmercifully stab into my eyes with agonizing repetition, yet I don't dare shut them.

"Why?" Someone asks me, someone very important. My eyes are still latched onto the deafening boom the sky had roared. I am too scared to move, but I am fascinated at the same time.

Then, blood.

_Splat splat splat splat!_

It took seconds for the red liquid to soak me, and even less for the wrenching scream to come out of my throat.

**0000**

April 1st, 9:05am

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When she wakes, she takes notice of the cool breeze caressing her cheeks all the way to her neck, and realizes that she is crying. The next thing she realizes is that someone with a husky, funny accent is calling out to her. Not in English, but in a different tongue. Some kind of Asian language.

Japanese?

She can't be sure. She isn't really paying attention to it. The smell and the annoying beeping noise is what she mostly pays attention to. She wants to open her eyes, yet she can't. It's not like its heavy or anything, it's just she knows where she is and doesn't want to face it.

This young girl really hates hospitals. Knowing that she is in one, on this bed where many have died, bothers her to no end. But she's a coward and blames it on the people who had the nerve to drop her off into this place without her permission.

Maybe this person speaking to her is to blame. Maybe she should open her eyes and confront this person and tell him that he should fuck off and mind his own damn business. Whatever happened to her yesterday was not life threatening at all. Her ankle was, and still is sprain from the dull ache she can still feel, but that injury is the most serious. The rest are just minor cuts and bruises.

But…how did she end up in this place?

She remembers walking in a foreign place, she has _no idea_ how she even got there in first place. She really doesn't remember anything. Everything was fuzzy and vague. But she was terrified, and she had weird hallucinations and passed out.

Oh god…oh god.

The girl can feel herself begin to panic once again. The smell of morphine became more pronounce the more she breathes in the air around her. She clenches her teeth and her hands fisted the sheets to grab hold of her bearing with no prevail. Memories of last night attacks her, along with the knowledge that she is one of the places she fears most, makes her very unstable.

Luckily, the man speaking in a foreign accent shakes her shoulders and forces her to open her teary brown eyes.

Looking at him makes the girl wonder if she should be relieve that he had brought her some kind of distraction, or terrified that her memories are indeed true. She can tell that he is Japanese, which means she is in a country she has no knowledge of, and is a doctor checking up on her. The phrases he speaks make no sense to her and she begins to wonder why it still brought her a sense of normalcy.

Is it because, despite randomly popping onto this country, she knows where she is and can still call her father and ask for help? Or is it because she had been afraid that she popped into an alternate universe and had no way of getting back?

Of course it's the former! Her exaggerated imagination likes to think of the most random things and make her panic for no absolute reason.

The dark haired girl blinks and tries to make out what the man is saying.

He is pointing to her ankle, the one that has a strong ache, and realizes that he is asking if she is okay.

"Um…" the girl sits up, winces as she did so, and nods, "better."

"Engrish?" It takes a while for her to deduce that the man is saying, "English?"

The girl nods again. "Yes, I speak English." Her eyes take notice of the greenish scrubs he is wearing, coming to a conclusion that he is no doctor, but a nurse, or an intern.

He grins, "Ah." The young man points a finger up, and begins to leave.

Despite knowing that he will come back did not help the fear grip her heart. She really doesn't want to be alone at the moment. She has to distract herself. Looking out the window on the right side of her bed, she decides to observe the many people bustling on the streets instead of the color and smell of this room.

It's funny; why do those streets look so familiar to her? The trees across the streets, the people walking on the walkway to get to the other side. She shakes her head, of course they're so familiar, she seen them all the time back home. But something in her heart is telling her that no, everything that she is seeing is something she has _seen before_, as in not directly, just like she thought to herself last night before she passed out.

Now that she's calmer, the girl deduces that the people that had made her panic in the first place are just a couple of _really _good cosplayers. Still, why did the other part of her mind think otherwise?

_'Cause it's stupid_.

It doesn't take long before the nurse comes back, and with an actual doctor. The girl blushes under his intelligent gaze. The doctor is probably twenty years her senior, but that doesn't change the fact that he is _very handsome_. Plus, his kind smile gives her once anxious heart a flutter-like beat.

"Nice to see you awake," the doctor says with a slight accent. "Fuji-san tells me you are feeling better?"

The girl nods. "Yes, it's just my leg that hurts, it's all."

The man nods. "You sprained your ankle and you have a large bruise on your ribs. Nothing is broken, but I imagine you have hard time breathing."

Actually, the only time she actually felt any pain on her abdomen area is when she was trying to sit up. "No, it doesn't hurt that much."

The handsome doctor nods and writes down something on his clip board.

The young girl tucks her hair behind her ears, feeling a bit shy. "Um, doctor…"

"Dr. Chiba"

She nods. "Dr. Chiba, how did I get here exactly?"

Dr. Chiba says something to the nurse in Japanese. The other man comes closer to the girl and smiles politely at her. He then begins to check her vital signs and heat beat.

"Two men brought you in," he says. He listens to the nurse and writes down whatever he says. "Foreigners, like you."

"Foreigner?"

He nods. "Yes." He stops writing to tap on his chin as he looks upward. "I'm assuming both aren't from the United States. I tried speaking to them in English but they only understood Japanese." He shrugs. "They're more than likely from Europe."

The girl looks down and stares at the tube in her wrist. "I see." She looks up at again, and begins to stare at the doctor with repressed anxiety. "Could you…please describe them for me?"

The older man grins. "They're in the cafeteria eating breakfast. As soon as they finish, they'll come visit you. They are really kind." He says that last part softly.

Why didn't that comfort her the way it should have?

"Anyway," he begins again, "I need to ask you a few questions."

"Huh, questions?"

He nods. "Yes. You see, our hospital knows nothing about you, and maybe neither does this country. It's just simple questions, so there's no need to panic."

"I see."

As soon as she finishes that statement, a knock resounds around the room. Dr. Chiba says something in Japanese, and the girl is staring at the door, waiting to see who's just behind it.

The wind gets knocked out of her once she sees the two men the doctor was, no doubt, speaking of. Two foreigners. One larger, the other smaller. One is black, the other white. Both of have blue eyes and matching, white and blue outfits.

She doesn't notice it, but her heart beat monitor begins to spike. Her heavy breathing begins, and her eyes become dilated. She begins begging her mind to stop playing tricks on her as her conscious becomes numb. This isn't real, she thinks to herself. Her mind is just doing this because she no other way to cope with the idea that she is entirely lost.

The nurse tries to calm her down as the doctor greets the two men. In the sentences that he says, she caught two disturbing names; Simon, and Dennis.

Her fists grabs onto her hair. She silently begs for herself to wake up from this delusional and psychotic dream. These two people _do not exist_! They are part of an anime that she loves and adores. They are 2-deminsional characters that are part of a story that takes place in a real place, but they _are not real_.

Her panic gets worse once she hears the larger of the two speak. Despite not knowing what he said, she knew she has loved that accent and voice for so long! And…

_Please, God…please let this be all part of my stupid, stupid head!_

But, the pain she feels on her body, the doctor's voice, the nurses' touches, they feel so real! What does that mean? That both Simon and Dennis exist as well? That's just impossible! Maybe she has gone crazy and this is just a stupid mirage because she's too cowardly to cope by herself so she uses fictional people to make herself feel better.

But why does that small part of her brain say otherwise?

"Miss," she hears the doctor say, "Miss, please calm down. We need you to breathe and tell us your name."

_My name? _She shuts her eyes, but tears still drip down her cheeks. _My name._

Her name is Ivy Feldberg. She is twenty years old. She was born in Seattle, Washington. She is of Russian decent. And she's not supposed to be here.

**0000**

March 31st, 8:30pm

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_"It should be easy enough for you_." Shinra had said with a smile too cheeky to ignore.

And he was right, the job was incredibly easy. It was enough to attack those low lives. It was easy enough to scare them. It was easy enough to knock them unconscious. It was easy enough to save the girl.

But…

What Celty finds hard to do, right in this moment, is to leave this poor, naïve girl into the hands of someone she wouldn't trust to save her life. As she stops her horse by the sidewalk where she's supposed to drop off this teenager, the Dullahan can't help but think something horrible will happen. She wants to grab hold of the young girl and take her far away.

Orihara Izaya is not one to be trusted_._

But this is her _job_. She shouldn't care for a girl stupid enough to fall prey for someone so obvious on making her life hell. Actually, no, Celty shouldn't care at all about this girl. She does not know her. She does affect her life in anyway shape or form. She just wants the money and go back home to Shinra. She shouldn't get involved. That's her job.

Taking her phone out as the teenager got off her horse, Celty types a message for the girl to read. She had meant it to sound harsh and cold, but it surprisingly came out gentler than she had expected.

'This is as far as my job goes.'The girl reads.

She blinks once before nodding, as the Black Rider drives off.

Celty wants to feel indifferent for the cute girl, but the more time she spends without her head, the more human she feels. And with these human emotions comes empathy, and compassion. Whether that is a good or bad thing is not something she knows. But she's worried, and that is something she does know for sure.

Sighing, the Black Rider took an illegal U-turn back to where she had dropped off the girl. She knows she can help her. If she can do this one thing, the girl can live on her life without the hands of doubt and resentment choking her.

She wants Izaya's clutches to be gone for the girl who has so much to live for. It's not right.

But something happens.

Someone calls her, Shinra to be exact.

"I need you to do me a favor," he says. Celty doesn't, or can't, answer, but he knows that she is listening. "I need you to pick something up for me."

_"What?" _she wants to say

As if hearing her question, Shinra take a deep breath and answers, "There was an accident early today a few miles away from Ikebukuro, an airplane crash, there weren't any survivors. But something was being imported here, something very valuable and I need you see if the artifact is still there. If it isn't there then the police has taken it, or someone stole it."

Celty agrees, only because this person is Shinra, and she would do anything for him.

Neither of those two will know this, but that event was never written in their history. This night is the beginning of a change that was never meant to be.

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_Everything has changed. No one will notice it though, but one person. It will take time for her to see it, but once she does, nothing she can do will stop it. But for now, nothing much has been different._

_The shady man and the temperamental man still hate each other with every fiber in their being. They both dream of ways to kill each other in the most painful of ways. Except, maybe, the dark haired man seems happier than usual._

_The two boys sleep. One is excited for a new, quieter life, and the other is nervous. He wishes nothing more than to have the life that he can be proud of and say, "My life is like a rollercoaster."_

_As the aloof girl sleeps, all she ever dreams is too have that fake parents and that fake life where her pitiful emotions can exist._

_The weird group of friends will continue to live their lives as a whole. The two otakus will stay strange, but friendly, while the other two can only shake their heads at their antics. Love will last._

_The beautiful head will continue to feel empty, but not look it, as beady eyes stare at it with twisted satisfaction._

_These events and feelings have not changed, but it doesn't mean there are none._

_The two Russia Sushi employees will protect and look over the girl with the injuries throughout the night, until the day she is safe and sound, and at home. _

_The airplane that was supposed to land safely for random people will crash as if God simply willed it, and it will cause chaos and death for many._

_The Dullahan and her quirky roommate; the Headless Rider will not be where she's supposed to be, and the doctor will want something that he wasn't ever supposed to want._

_And the girl with the cute pigtails and dead-like eyes, Kamichika Rio, she will meet her end._

_The man with the shady personality grins in glee as the girl, thinking and willing for her parents to feel guilty for her death, jumps off the roof. This time, there was no one there to save her._

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**AH! I know, I killed RIO! But, as I made my plot, I realized that Celty wouldn't there to save her. I was sad, but I went with it.  
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**Please leave me feedback; I loved all the positive ones you guys left me! Incredibly encouraging and sweet.**


	3. Chapter 2: Eidolon

**Thanks a bunch to those who reviewed! It makes me want to actually complete this story.**

**Let me tell you a fun fact: I have never read the Light Novels. I wanted to based this story on the Novels, but I had no way of getting them, so the anime it is. However, I did a lot of research on the Novels, and I have put in quite a bit of stuff from the novels and to the this story. So...if you haven't read the novels, then some things might be a bit off.**

**Oh, I also want to make this story a bit psychological and cryptic. So, some things might confuse you guys. Please be patient. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.**

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Eidolon

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_"What is fear?"_

The person the man is to speaking cocks its head to the side. It was surprised that he had suddenly broken their peaceful silence.

_Someone asked me that a long time ago. At the time, I really couldn't answer him. Usually, a question like that would piss me off to no end, but something about it made me stop in my tracks._

The man's companion, a bit thrown off, says nothing and only listens.

_Now that I think about it, that old g_eezer _was probably the only reason I ever contemplated such an ass question like that. The man was homeless, alone, and drunk himself senseless. He seemed happy enough, despite all the shit going on in his life, so I thought he was…okay._

_"You there," he had said, pointing right at me._

_I turned, and he asked that question: "What is fear?"_

_Why does it still constantly bother me?_

_What do I fear, and what does it mean to me?_

_I fear hurting the people I care about. I can be so damn uncontrollable at times I even begin to think, 'Wow, there's no hope for me.' I would play these scenarios in my head; what if I hurt Kasuka. What if I hurt my parents? Children? _

The silent spectator waits for him to say more, because It knows that whatever is on his mind, needs to be spoken. Otherwise, this angry man will be burdened.

_I think…fear is different for everybody, right? I mean, not everybody fears tearing their loved ones apart, or hell, even killing a few kids, right?_

_Is that the right answer?_

* * *

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April 1st, 5:26pm

...

Ivy keeps her head down as the two Russian men walk her to their apartment. Despite being around these two for hours, helping her translate the police officer's questions and asking Dr. Chiba what to do with her, she feels…weird. The initial shock never faded, and she's certain it never will. Now, she's just numb. She's not scared anymore, but she's not peaceful either.

Maybe those painkillers the doctor prescribed to her finally kicked in. That or she's just tired from all the questioning both Dr. Chiba and that officer did.

Apparently, she's part of the system. She's on a visa on her way to Tokyo, Japan. She lost all of her stuff in a plane crash that she's supposedly part of, also, it was a fucking miracle that she even survived—assuming she was even a part of it, like the officer and doctor like to believe. But the problem with everything Dennis had translated to her was…she doesn't remember anything.

Not the visa, not the crash, and definitely not the reason why she's even in this country without her father in the first place. Everything concerning her transportation and incident that had happened only yesterday, is just a blank. Besides last night, everything else is gone.

She saw the News earlier this day. She didn't need to know Japanese to realize what the reporter was talking about. It was the plane crash, and from the looks of it, everybody in the plane, and many more just outside, had died. Feeling sick, she turned off the tv before she could see anymore.

It was chaos. There was fire everywhere, mostly burned out, destroyed buildings, and mourners.

If she really was in that plane, she should have _died_.

So, she doesn't believe she had been part of that crash. It's not logical.

_I should feel grateful_, Ivy thinks to herself._ At least I'm not dead._ But then again, she's meeting people that aren't even supposed to exist. The woman is still debating whether this is all a dream, or just a fucked up illusion. Or is this really…really real?

She would love for it to be the first two options, but…

"Ah, fuck!" The girl whispers harshly as her ankle hits against a lamppost.

A gentle hand stops her from falling on her face. She flinches, despite his good intentions, but forcibly sends Simon an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she says in Russian.

The large man sends her a concern look. "Are you okay?"

She can only nod stiffly, and begins using the crutches to walk again.

"You know," Dennis begins. He sends her a glance, one that just oozes off caution and pity. "Until you heal, you are more than welcomed to live with us."

Ivy almost snaps at him for looking at her like she was some sort of kicked puppy, but calms herself because she _knows _these two men are _pacifist _and want nothing more than to be good people. She knows this. She knows they are two of the nicest people she has ever met, real or not…besides her father, of course.

She's just _scared_, and part of her reaction to this fear she has is to take her anger out on anything. But not to them. Yes, she knows they couldn't possibly be real. They could very well be stupid lies made up in her unstable head of hers. But damnit, they are willing to let a _stranger_ into their home without hesitation. She will be nice to them!

"Um, actually," Ivy swallows before looking at the dirty sidewalk, "If you don't mind, is it okay if you guys teach me…Japanese?"

Her visa says that she had signed up to say in Tokyo for a whole _year_. Right about now, she's debating whether or not that's such a good idea, but that stupid part of her brain is telling her that her dad had paid tooth and blood for this trip—the problem is _why_! Until she feels better and gets in contact with her dad, she will stay here until she decides if she should stay or leave. For now, she will stay just for a bit because she doesn't want to waste her father's money for nothing.

Plus, she always wanted to visit Japan.

Both Dennis and Simon laugh, but it is the former that answers her. "Young lady, we barely speak Japanese ourselves, especially Simon here."

"My Japanese is great!"

Dennis ignores him. He gently taps Ivy's head to get her attention. "But, we do know a guy who speaks perfect English, so he could teach you a few things."

"Who?" she asks hesitantly.

The old man rubs his chin. "Hm, his name Tanaka Tom, I think." Ivy immediately stiffens. "Simon knows him more than I do."

"Hm," the larger man begins. "He's a little reserved, but he's a good kid." He chuckles. "Maybe a pretty girl like you would be good for him!" God, how can he say stuff like that?! "All Tom-san does is hang out with Shizuo-san all day."

Never mind the fact that Simon had mention two very intimidating people that she _knows_, and also knows that one of the two is a ticking time bomb, his earlier comment left her flustered. Ivy knows she's not ugly, but she's not…_pretty _either!

She's cute at best. Her face is boring, her hair is boring, and even her sense of fashion is _beyond _boring. The only noticeable thing about her is her body. Part of the reason why she constantly hides her image beneath heavy clothing is because of how…_noticeable _it is. Her boob size is a bit above 38D, which means she has to constantly get measurements to find a bra that can actually fit her! It's embarrassing.

Plus, whenever she does where a shirt tighter than her normal wardrobe, guys constantly stare at it. It gets her flustered and irritated, and what's the big damn deal about huge tits anyway?!

"Ivy?"

"Huh?" said girl blinks when Dennis called her.

"We're here."

She glances up as he says this, not even surprised to be looking at a less than fancy place. The apartment building is beat up, old, and it honestly frightens her. The dark windows and an ugly color of grey remind her of the Japanese version of Dark Water. Despite the heartbreaking ending, the rest of the movie scared the living shit out of her. She didn't associate with anything horror-like for months after that traumatic experience.

And usually, when confronted with such a situation, Ivy would make bitter remarks because hell, she's terrified so she has to take it out on others. But in this case, she controls herself.

She forcibly swallows and grits out, "It's…nice."

She nearly jumps out of her skin when both Simon and Dennis burst out laughing. "Young lady," Dennis says when he regains composure, though the grin plastered on his aged face will not leave, "there's no need to lie. We know this place is a dump, but it's our home and it's a home for many other happy people."

How fucking philosophical. That doesn't change the fact that it looks hella scary, and imposing, and she can bet the single, torn up outfit she has on that she _will _be getting nightmares of that Grudge bitch later in her sleep. But she does not express her internal panic, but simply smiles and follows them into their small apartment room.

**0000**

April 1st, 1:30pm

...

It has been accepted by many that danger lurks around every corner. The older you get, the more obvious the fundamental cruelty that lurks in every human. So, for Kida Masaomi, it isn't much of a surprise finding that your own classmate had committed suicide not even twenty-four hours ago. Or that a plane had crashed and killed many, including kids, without any hint of compassion or mercy.

Sitting in his classroom, surrounded by many other normal high schoolers just like him, he feels almost a jealous-like sensation washing over him as he watches them look up at the tv screen in pure horror. Some girls cry claiming they knew the girl called Kamichika Rio. Others cry because something horrible has happened and they have no idea how to deal with the situation.

He _really _wished he was just as ignorant and naïve as them.

But, he's Kida Masaomi! He has a reputation to hold of being a sensitive lady's man!

So he pretends to be worried over the families that lost their lives in the plane accident. He feigns the disgust as he watches the camera pointing at Kamichiak-san's body, allowing Japan to see the dark, dried blood surrounding her mangled corpse. He projects a sense of horror of seeing someone he might have known being picked up by the ambulance, finally seeing how much the concrete floor is stained by her blood.

He fakes seeing much worse than watching a single dead body.

* * *

_I mean…that can't be the right answer, but it's close._

_What I find weird, though, is that people, who are supposed to be scared of me, aren't._

_Kasuka has never been afraid of me, but I've done more damage to him than I could do to any other person with just my fist. He never once blames me. That…that fucking pisses me off for some reason._

The mysterious person sitting next to him silently watches him, and says nothing.

_Damn…_

* * *

...

April 1st, 5:59pm

...

"The first thing we need to do is buy you new clothes."

"Huh?"

Ivy stares at the black man as if he had just lost his mind. Despite her hanging mouth, and wide-eyed stare he doesn't let down his own excited grin. That is the worst idea she has ever heard in her life ever! In case he hasn't noticed it before, but Ivy Feldberg is a _stranger _who has _no money _to buy herself a whole new _wardrobe_. What is he, crazy?!

"What, you didn't think we would let you go out in public with the clothes you have on now, did you?" Dennis questions smugly, as if he read her mind.

"B-But…"Ivy trails off, not knowing how to respond to such kindness. "You guys…already paid for my medical bill and…_that _was a lot of money."

Simon waves off her concern. "No, don't worry about that one. A friend of ours paid for the expense."If she weren't dependent on her crutches, Ivy would have palmed her face until her forehead bruised.

And since she was so shocked and confused and _irritated _she spoke without thinking, speaking in Russian without meaning to, "Who would do something so fucking _stupid_."

Simon once again waves her concern away, though there seems to be a slight anxiety that Ivy fails to notice. "Someone who you don't need to concern yourself with."

Ivy shakes her head. "I-I can't do that! Plus…I don't think this place has my…fashion taste."

Dennis smiles gently. "You don't have to worry about the expense. We have plenty of money from running Russia Sushi, also…" he turns sheepish. "We're men; we have no idea what to get you even if you gave us a picture."

"But," Simon chimes in, "we have a neighbor that can help you! Her name is Shiri, she's Russian as well."

Shiri?

Ivy tries to rack her brain for anything that can trigger a memory of such a woman. Try as she might, nothing comes up.

She really doesn't want to waste their money, though. "I-If you have so much money," she sniffs, slowly sitting down on the brown couch near the back window, "why don't you guys rent a nicer place?"

That is an incredibly rude thing to say, but she needs to distract them! She's as cheap as one could get. She _rarely _bought herself things unless she absolutely needed. Hell, the only phone she ever had was an old Nokia phone! Any clothing more than fifty dollars, she doesn't get, that includes multiple clothing. Electronics? Ha! She's technologically challenged.

The only thing she has ever bothered to spend money is on her art supplies, because to her and her father, her talent is very special to them both. It's something that brings life into their home during their time of distress. He supports her, so she couldn't ask for a better dad.

Simon and Dennis laugh at her earlier statement, making her come back to reality.

Simon wipes the tears from his eyes. "We are cheap men, Miss Feldberg. We have a lot of money because of it, so it wouldn't matter much to us if you buy yourself a lot of clothing."

Dennis nods. "Plus, if we ever want to be called men, we have to keep you at top notch shape, or we couldn't speak to your father. It would be shameful."

Damn, they have found her weakness.

Shyly, Ivy dips her head down to keep her eyes off the two kind men as she hides her blush from them as well.

"O-Okay," she says at last.

**000**

April 1st, 1:30pm

...

A wise man once said that constantly doing the same thing, agonizingly expecting something to change, is what defines the term "crazy".

It doesn't seem far-fetched, and makes perfect sense to many people. Maybe the one person, who hasn't realized it, is just in too deep with that repetition to recognize any change he has in his life. And when he does, an almost feral emotion attacks him, making him react in the strangest of ways. Looking up at tv screen, eyes completely zoned in on the reporter's grim words, he _should _be wary of the excitement enticing his every move. He should be very worried, and think how cruel the world is.

He doesn't notice it at first.

The girl's dead body is something he has never set his eyes on, someone he had seen just last night. That plane crash that silently killed hundreds of people, he noticed minutes after he went back home. He had seen the fire, the explosion just outside his window, and was fascinated by the sight.

Now seeing the charred land, along with the bloodstained ground left behind by that girl, for the first time in his life, something was different, and it makes him happy. He doesn't question it, though. Not until he feels a pair of heavy eyes staring right at his forehead.

Reluctantly, his glazed blue eyes sought after the other, and finds a pair of frighten beautiful brown ones. He snaps out of his revere, blushing heavily as he smiles awkwardly at the cute girl. He rubs the back of his head and bows in place. It is short, heavy, and very, very fake.

Almost immediately, she looks away, but he can tell that whatever emotion she is feeling is still there by the time the teachers turns off the tv, eyes heavy and sad, and begins an English lesson. He stares at her for the rest of the day, almost disappointed when she disappears for lunch, but continues his scrutinize stare until they all leave.

The young boy tries calling out for her, saying they have to meet, but she runs and never looks back.

He knows why she's acting like that, and a big part of him wants to tell her that he's not at all what she thinks he is, but the other part; that deep chirp yapping in his ears, tells him it's not worth it. _You shouldn't feel sorry, you shouldn't._

So he meets up with Kida-kun, happy yet unhappy for the quirky teen talking his ear off as he distracts that part of Mikado he would rather not accept.

_I am you. Stop denying me_.

He smiles at the world, hoping no one finds what really lurks underneath his bashful grins.

**0000**

April 1st, 6:30 pm

...

Ivy had been surprised that Shiri is none other than the beautiful blonde that helps people find what they had lost. She could have sworn the older lady was Italian, but she has no right to complain now that she's part of the bustling district.

If it weren't for that woman, there's no doubt in her mind she would have been really, really, lost. Her thin hands guide her through the crowded streets on the small of her back, protecting her as if she is a fragile China Doll. Though the comparison somewhat irritates Ivy, she says nothing. This woman reminds her of a special friend she has back at home.

The heavy coat Simon had allowed her to wear to hide her torn up clothes, makes walking on the crutches very tiring and awkward. But she ignores her need to rest and sleep, and instead listens to Shiri as they make their way towards a shop.

They enter the building, and obnoxious singing could be heard. Ivy blanches at what she is hearing, and wished she had her music with her.

"Hm? Do you not like the music?" Shiri wonders innocently as she watches Ivy try to uselessly smother the music with her shoulder.

"This song annoys me."

The blonde woman jumps a bit. "Oh, is this the type of music you Americans listen to?"

"Unfortunately," Ivy mumbles. "Lady Gaga is very popular these days." She sighs, finally giving up on her useless goal. She huffs and sends a slight glare at the taller woman. "How can you not go about on your merry way without listening to these types of things? They are very popular in this world, especially Gaga."

Shiri shrugs. "I am not very fond of traditional music. I'm a big fan of orchestral, and instrumental, though."

Ivy nods, and finally pays attention to what type of store they are in.

Again, she blanches, now for a different reason.

If it not for the blinding color of neon green splattered against the walls, then the hundreds among hundreds of clothing she is not familiar with could have send her straight into hell. She likes green, lucky for this store, but the clothes…

There is no bagging clothing, or long skirts, or heavy pants, or big jackets. Nothing she is used to wearing, or that can bring her some comfort to this very unfortunate situation.

Eyes pleading, Ivy turns towards Shiri. "No, please. C-Can we go somewhere else?"

"Why?" The blonde looks in front of them with an excited glint shining in her blue eyes. "I love it here."

"B-But…"

Shiri notices the look on the girl's face, and smiles sympathetically. "I understand, okay? But I want us to be friends, and if you're going to be my friend I want you to be happy and confident." She becomes encouraged by Ivy's calmer eyes. "We'll pick out anything you like, okay?"

Ivy knows she's panicking for no reason—for a very stupid reason, that is—but all her life, she has hidden, not only her body, but her true self. Even her closest friend doesn't know much about her. Her dad is her only best friend, and she had never wanted more. So, because she is always afraid of making friends, she stops, and hides into herself. The clothes help in that department to keep wandering eyes away from her.

She hates when people stare, or try to compliment her into showing them her drawings. She is just a naturally guarded person. Her trust in people is very little to none, which is just incredibly sad—but she has no idea how to change herself. Changing her fashion choice is like ripping off that huge mask she works so hard for, so others wouldn't notice her.

Change is bad. Change scares her. That's why she's panicking.

But what choice does she have? She can't travel the district all alone, and she sure as hell can't go prance around with nothing but torn clothing that leave little to the imagination.

Ivy takes a deep breath, and finally nods. "O-Okay…l-let's see what they have."

Shiri almost hugs her, but stops at the last minute. The large grin never did go away as they bought clothes for the next few hours.

**000**

April 1st, 6:00-?pm

...

Celty: There's nothing here. I looked for miles just in case it had fallen off somewhere else, but nothing.

Shinra: It's fine. Thanks, Celty.

Celty: What were you trying to find?

Shinra: It's nothing.

Celty: Shinra?

Shinra: It's nothing that concerns you, alright? So, just come back home. I miss you.

The Dullahan clenches her phone into her fist. The worry stabbing at her gut would not stop as she stares at her friend's message. For some reason, looking at-reading the underline irritation-scares her. She is almost tempted to ask him what was wrong, but stops herself. This is Shinra. Despite his infatuation with her, the strange doctor locks up his secrets tighter than she can.

Her shoulder sag. She's not relieved, but she knows that her best friend will tell her someday.

Celty: …Fine.

**000**

April 1st, ?

...

He searches the district, everyday, for something incredibly important to him. He finds nothing.

He doesn't attend school anymore, so that'll give him plenty of time to search. He finds nothing.

He got rid of that girl, so maybe this means he can finally find _her_. She's gone. Gone. Stolen, after he killed that…_girl_. He finds nothing.

His sister calls him. His sis is bad. She is not a good person. She lies. She kills. She's _bad_. But neechan always finds a way to get _her _back. He looks, too. He finds nothing.

He knows they will reunite, despite the blood soaking his hands, he knows their love will make him pure, and then he can live with her _forever_. Neechan won't be of use anymore, so maybe this _blood will go away_. He looks, and looks. He finds nothing.

He pretends to be nice. He pretends to have manners. He pretends that he hadn't killed a girl. What does it matter? If he finds her, everything will be okay! So he looks, and looks. He finds nothing.

He's running again, from that _girl's _friend. What does she want? _No, I don't know anything! _He runs, and runs, and runs, hoping to be rid of the bashful—_infuriating!_—girl. He runs without looking, and finds nothing.

She's gone. He's alone. Time to start looking. He finds nothing.

But he knows they will be reunited once again. So he'll look, and look, and eventually, he will see—she will see him, and they'll be happy.

Maybe then, this blood stained on his hands will disappear.

* * *

_There's also something else I fear. If you tell anyone else, I swear to God, I'll kill you._

_There's this fleabag I know, Orihara Izaya. I hate that bag of shit. There's nothing I want more than to see him dead. And it's not because he caused my life to be hell for a period of time. You see, that shithead…he's…he's really smart. He's manipulative, and probably the worst person I had ever met._

"Maybe it's nothing."

_No, I'm not over exaggerating. This guy knows how to control people. _

"Are you scared he'll ruin your life?"

_No—I'm not afraid he'll target me again._

_…It's my brother._

_What if that shithead gets near him, and damages him? _

"Don't worry about it."

_How the hell am I not supposed to worry? You don't get it. My brother is the one good thing I have in my life. My parents don't talk to me, and every single person I meet wants to murder me! I hate my strength so much. Because of it, I got Orihara's attention, and he'll use any means necessary to torture me._

It was silent for a few seconds.

"He doesn't care for anyone?"

_…No…He has a family, but…the bastard is really hard to read. So…I have no idea. But what does that matter? You want me to kill his sisters, just to rile him up?!_

_Tch._

_I have thought about it, but then I'd just be the monster everybody thinks I am._

_…What do you think?_

His companion says nothing, and the man almost suspected that it wasn't going to say anything. But then, it turns toward him. Though he could not see its face, the man was sure this person—female—is smiling.

"What is fear?"

A man looks at his companion, sunglasses hiding the surprise in his eyes. But then he looks up at the night sky and begins to ponder the question for the millionth time.

He takes a lungful of smoke.

Breathes it out.

_I don't know._

His companion doesn't speak, nor does he.

* * *

**Yes, I know that last part is a bit cryptic, but it'll make sense; again, you have to be patient.**

**Please leave a review, if you'd like. I really love you guy's feedback.**


	4. Chapter 3: Fancy

Hey, sorry for the long wait, but it's really hard what kind of style I want to use for this story. That's why you see each chapter a bit different in terms of story telling, and it's getting harder how to tell it, but I'll probably feel more comfortable in about two more chapters-more or less. Also, Izaya is one hard character to dig into. It's not easy interpreting his character, so I'd say a slight OOC for this one. Sorry.

Oh, and yeah, I'm thinking of adding a lot of stuff from the Light Novels...it'll be better, I think. And yeah, I know what I'm doing for this fic, trust me.

* * *

...

Fancy

...

* * *

_Look around you, and tell me what you see._

_Do you see a familiar location, like a room…or maybe even a park? Do you look at your surroundings and think that maybe you need to spend more time at other places. Doing the same thing is boring, right? But, it brings you comfort because you know it so well, so what harm can it do to you? So, you continue to stay in that same repetition because it's a safe haven._

_Or, do you see something worse? Is the familiar the very thing you're trying to run away from? When you look at your house, do you see a place that will swallow you whole? When you look at the beautiful sky during twilight, instead of seeing a magnificent blend of orange and pink, do you see a bleeding heaven? Everything you are seeing, does it scare you?_

_Even if you do want to escape the constant broken record, good or bad, going on in your life, why don't you do it?_

_Maybe the thought of changing, whether it can make your life better, is a bit intimidating, isn't it? _

_You're right…it's pretty scary._

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a man. He is not your normal hero that you read in those tedious fairytales. He is no honorable hero that would do anything to save the fair maiden from her distress. He will not answer to the call of the weak. He will not respect his fellow enemies, or the people who employ him for his deeds. He will not fight fairly. He does not have a heart of gold.

Every word he says—every smile, every kind gesture—they're all lies. He is not one to be trusted. He has made it deliberately known that he is up to no good, yet, despite that, he is able to lure people into his web of lies and manipulate them as if they are just mere, laughable puppets.

And laugh he does. How could he not? They're just so easy to control. Yet, he loves them; his little dolls—his humans. The human race fascinates him on a level he can't seem to control. Day by day, he finds ways to entangle himself in those humans he finds even remotely interesting.

Or, he can do it just to ruin their life.

He loves humans. That is his excuse. He wants them to know that, despite how boring some are, they can change the way they think and be better. They can be interesting.

But he knows that isn't true. Boring or not, they all fascinate him either way. He sees them walk blindly along the streets of Tokyo and can't help but smile. He knows half of their personality by just a mere glance, and wants to know more.

Maybe that's why he's so good at his job?

This dark knight has no job some will call honorable. He's an Information broker. He makes it his job to know every detail of his beloved humans. People hire him so he could give them information on others, and some of the time, his employers are bad. Most of the time, it's him who does the hiring.

It's very simple.

He breathes to loves humans. It's his job to toy with them until they're nothing but his puppets just because it's amusing to see them crumple in his palm. In a simpler form: he loves controlling his humans—he loves being _right_. They're his for the taking and no one can come between him and them.

Is he a bad person for it?

No, of course not! He isn't _that _bad. He hasn't directly killed someone with his own two hands. But then again…he's not kind enough to stop someone from dying. And if they want to suicide, then who the hell is he to stop them?

The warm breeze caresses his cheeks as he looks down at the pathetic, teenage girl. He holds in his laughter as he reveals everything to her. Her eyes of betrayal, of anger, or shock…it isn't surprising to see. He is slightly disappointed. This girl, he had thought that maybe she was different from the others he had brought up here.

But all he sees is just a weak minded doll. All it has to take is just a few words and…

…Well.

"Tell me something; you think you're special? You're not. Everyone's the same." The man with the dark grin looks down at the bloodstain below, amused.

He has seen many give in to his words. They all wanted to spite him for being right. These humans…

The man walks on the edge of the building. He balances himself with his arms and walks farther from the girl in a frustrating calmness the teenager grows to hate.

"Everyone lies. Everyone hides things. No one makes it through this life being completely honest. I bet you even got a couple of juicy secrets you wouldn't tell your best friend." He stops, and turns towards the girl.

His stomach bubbles at the face of pain she is giving him. He is _very _tempted to laugh. Call her stupid. He can only smirk and further her torment.

"So explain this to me," he raises his pointer finger up towards the bright, night sky, as if he just shot a gun. He felt as if he has. The power he has over this girl is just unbelievable. "How come it's okay for you to tell a lie, but not your parents?"

The girl with the pigtails seems surprised by the question. She struggles for a pathetic excuse for a few seconds, but only fumbles on her words. It's sad, really…

He smirks. The grin he sends her makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. His smile, remind her of that of a snake, except, snakes attack only when threaten or hungry. This man…he's just toying with her. She's very angry right now, but…he has left her shaking to her boots. She wants to tell him to stop and say sorry and say that yeah, he has a point, so just let her go! But she doesn't, partly because she has her pride, and mostly because she is terrified.

"You wanna know what my thoughts are on this?" He walks closer to her with every word he says. The closer he gets, the more she wants to run. "I think if you're having an affair, or if your spouse knows, at times you still laugh at the same dumb jokes," he brings his cunning face towards the girl, eyes mocking her with every word he spits out, "you keep eating the same sweet stew. You just keep going—"

The man, in all his coyness, simply smiles wider at the girl's angered face. Tears threaten to burst through, yet he does not stop. Her hand flies towards him, but he grabs hold of her wrist. Laughing manically internally, the man grabs hold of the railing behind him, and…

And as if in slow motion, the girl feels herself falling. A silent gasp is all that leaves her until she stops just as her tip toes lean against the edge of the roof. She can feel the man's hold on her is loose, and she debates on letting go so she can finally leave this hell, but she is afraid.

He's right, she knows this. She berates herself for clutching onto this man's disgusting hand as if it is a life-line, because that's what it is. She doesn't want to die. She wants to die, but she doesn't. If he can just…stop doing this!

Her brown eyes lock onto the bloodstain down below. What would it feel like to meet the end this floor? How will it feel when she jumps and feel the wind blowing against her body? These thoughts…she's thought of them before, but now…

Now the snake-like man can only hide whatever laughter he wants to let out. He hears her heavy breathing and revels on it.

"You see, whatever problems you had are just bloodstains on the pavement. Everyone's the same, no exceptions. All of them…equal before God."

He feels her tremble, and loosens his hand a bit. "Want me to let go?" He mocks.

This is all him. He wants to make a point to this stupid girl, and is happy when she whimpers upon his request.

He decides, like he is God himself that she has had enough. He pulls her up back onto her two feet. The teenager clutches onto him to grab her bearings, but he pulls away, almost uncomfortable by her touch.

Orihara Izaya ignores the dead-like expression on her face, only revering on her trembling body. "You get it now?"

She says nothing, but he doesn't care.

"Well, gotta bounce," he says playfully as he jumps over the railing. He walks backwards towards the door as he says his final words to the pathetic teenager. "Thanks for proving how ugly and immature you are, it's been real."

Again, he points his finger at her as if a gun is in his hands.

But he places it down, figuring that she'll do the killing herself.

"And just so you know, I don't really care about your problems. I just wanted to see how you handle yourself." He jumps a bit against the railing, excited with each passing minute. "You didn't let me down though; you're just as _boring _as I imagined you to be."

The girl feels as if her heart has been pierced through. Yet, she does not dare cry. She forces herself to go numb and ignore all those hurtful things that snake says.

"I knew you really didn't want to kill yourself. Thanks again." He waves. "I had an excellent time, Magenta-san."

Those are the last words he says as he shuts the door behind, leaving the girl vulnerable and broken.

* * *

_Change is not always a good thing._

_Just ask this girl._

_Her normal life has been broken once a dirty secret is discovered. Now, no matter how much she had tried to keep it together, all the laughs, smiles, and love she shares with her parents just seem so strange and different. It's fake. All she feels now is hatred, and anger. Anger towards herself, her parents and that…bastard._

_The coy man made her realize that he was right. She doesn't want to die. But, she wants to make her parents regret keeping secrets, and she had thought the best way to do that is to make them sad because of her death. They should blame themselves._

_His words…no matter how much she tries, they continue to stab and stab into her chest. Now, she just hates him._

_The girl with the cute pig-tails looks behind her, eyes zooming in on that bloodstain again._

_She wants to prove him wrong._

_She wants him to realize that this pain her parents caused is real, and agonizing. _

_She wants him to regret ever saying those words to her._

_This is her change. She is escaping her broken peace by doing something reckless, and very stupid. But…isn't it dumber to continue to live a lie? She asks herself this question over and over until she's brave and sure enough to say, "Yes."_

_The girl, thinking and willing for her parents and that snake to feel guilty for her death, takes a deep breath…and jumps._

_For a minute, it feels like she is flying. Air zips by her almost violently, making her hair to become loose and tickle her cheeks. She spreads her arms out, imagining herself with wings and soaring into a world without resentment constantly choking her._

_Eyes closed, a smile placed on her child-like face…she never sees herself falling to her death._

_A loud splat is heard as it bounces against the cold walls of the silent alley. As if the ground is crying, blood oozes out from the girl's broken body staining the grey, concrete floor with red. It spreads wider and longer, hugging the girl into a warm, wet embrace._

_She will not come back._

_She will not know how much her parents will cry and hate each other._

_But this is her change, and it makes her content._

* * *

Once upon a time there was a man with good intentions. But do not be mistaken; his heart is as black as an abyss. He is not a man filled with a desire to do good deeds. He is a man full of selfish needs, and only does things for himself. But…

He isn't a complete monster.

The man is reminded of the text he received earlier from his transporter to deliver her money to her roommate. He's a bit ticked off, but his mood is higher of what had happened earlier. As he skips through the streets of Ikebukuro, the man smiles at every stranger passing him by.

He is a masochist, therefore, despite the little sting, he enjoys seeing the absolute distrust radiating off his humans. It's amusing.

How much would it take to make them his? They don't know it, but he could reveal every secret they have to ruin their lives, but he doesn't do that because he chooses to spare them, just as would their God. Soon, they'll realize that someone is watching over them, not just a being that might not even exist.

He starts humming a tune not known by many, one he had recently read and enjoys immensely. He skips towards his employee's home thinking nothing could ever ruin the wonderful day he has had.

Taro Tanaka is coming in town, someone he strongly suspects is the creator of The Dollars. The Slasher attacks are mere child's play for is manipulation, and all he has to do is find a Color Gang worth using, preferably using someone he can easily control. Then…everything will go as planned. A war will brew and everything that happens will benefit him only.

Insurance, if that's one would call it.

"Izaya," said man stops in his tracks once he hears Simon call him. He turns towards the larger man, noticing that he and his coworker are leaving their restaurant.

The man with dark hair finally pays attention to how late it is. The streets of 'Bukuro is practically barren and dark. He has been walking in the streets for hours, so time must have flown by.

Izaya smiles at the Russian man, bowing in a very sloppy and lazy manner. "See you later, Simon," he nods at the older man, "Dennis-san."

Both those men do not trust Orihara Izaya, but then again who does? But it's different with them. Those two men and Shizu-chan are the only people he can't seem to control with his words. The Russian men want nothing to do with his shady schemes, and he has no interest with their ability to detect the absolute lies radiating off his mouth. Despite what their nature might suggest Izaya knows better than to cross them. He does love them, though, and knows everything about them.

They were, in their old days, excellent spies working for their government. And though he refuses to use them as part of his game, it doesn't mean he can't play with them.

The more distrustful of the two says nothing, but simply turns his back on him as he locks up their shop. Again, Orihara felt a familiar sting that both hurt and amuses him greatly.

He bows one last time, but instead he stares right at Dennis as he politely bows, but they both know with his sly smirk and coy, dark eyes, that he's just mocking him. The older man looking over his shoulder and scowls, but mutters his goodbyes.

Izaya waves at them before turning his back to them, and towards the direction to Shinra's apartment.

You see, something changes his course of actions. It's not something he had planned, nor is it something he is ever willing to do, but his once great day changes for the worst. His sisters are at home, sleeping, so even they couldn't ruin as much as this girl did.

Here's the thing; while Orihara Izaya might not be the best person in the world, he surely isn't the worse. Though, there are few he can count on one hand that are worse than he is—Yagiri Namie is one example—but it's because he would rather observe than be part of the action. It's his specialty.

But what makes her any different?

He does not ask himself this question until hours has passed since he had gotten rid of her and already knows the answer to it, but in that moment, right as he sees the small body crumpled in a mess on the dirty sidewalk, he pauses with a blank mind. At this moment, now forgetting the two men that aggravate him immensely, all he feels is irritation. He looks back, and couldn't help but scowl.

This isn't the first time he has done this, and many do not know this side of him—actually, only his sisters has seen him act so generously—and he wants it to keep it that way. Despite the darkness, the street lamps help him see the condition the girl is in, if only a little.

He can tell the girl is alive by the light rise and fall of her chest. His brown eyes narrow on the deep cuts on her exposed legs and arms, a large hideous bruise is seared onto her leg, along with her torn up clothes, the sly man can only think of the worse. He's not worried, but again, looking at the girl, he can't help but feel some sort of sympathy. She is a human, and therefore, his. He has to look after the females especially, since they're delicate creatures.

Men can easily take advantage of some women, and it would seem that it has happened to her.

So, with his frown now more pronounced, he walks closer to her body and gently lifts her up. He does not care for her modesty as he glances at her almost exposed body, and is surprised by how light she is. The girl looks heavier, but he deduces that it is partly from her heavy clothing that she is wearing.

"Stupid girl," he mutters, because he does not want to deal with her all by himself.

She is an illegal alien, someone not native of this land, someone he doesn't know anything about, and that bothers him. If she were to wake up right now, he wouldn't know what to do with her. She's not his problem, despite her being human. Yes, he loves humans, but meetings like this are highly uncomfortable for his liking. He at least knows a lot about his enemy, and can easily aggravate him to his amusement, but she's different.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that this can be of use to him, but…

She is not part of his game, and therefore, she's better off dead. Yet, as he thinks this, the man with a heart dark as death itself, wonders over back to the two Russian men because, yes, once he sees her again, he will know whether or not if this whole thing is worth it. He wasted his time, and it better be for nothing.

The two spot him, shocked at the thing he is holding. It is no surprise they hadn't seen her, it is too dark, and once they do notice the usual heartless man carrying the women, they do not know how to respond.

Izaya hides his discomfort with his usual eerie smile. "Look what I found." He thrusts the girl from his chest to the two men with wide eyes, silently urging them to take her. "She's not dead," he adds just to keep their minds in peace.

"Where was she," Dennis urges, but then he realizes who he is talking to, and keeps his face stone-like.

Izaya shrugs, pocketing his hands in his sweater once Simon takes the girl from his arms. "Just across the street", he jerks his head behind him. "Surprised no one helped."

But then again, humans are naturally built to worry about things that concern themselves. They don't need to know that, though.

Simon looks at his old friend and speaks to him in Russian. "I did not see her! There were so many people in the streets, and I was passing out the pamphlets, and—"

"It's not your fault," Dennis says.

"We should take her to the hospital." Izaya almost laughs at the expressions they're giving him.

"We?" Simon questions.

"Why not? Yours truly will pay for everything," he gestures to himself.

To what little people roaming the streets, their little group might seem strange, but warming to know that some people are willing to help others, but they're blind to the truth. Izaya can only feel the tension licking his skin as one ex-soldier stares him down into intimidation, and the other looking over him as if he can find the truth hidden beneath his flesh.

They seem to forget who they are dealing with. Izaya is not one you can easily scare— no one besides his imoutos can make him feel uneasy. While he would rather observe the chaos, the coy man is willing to put himself into the action just to have fun. Simon won't be trouble, but Dennis…well…it would be interesting.

He can only answer to their distrustful eyes with his own, sly grin. It doesn't lessen the tension, but makes it worse. He doesn't mind it at all.

"We owe you nothing for this." Dennis doesn't even bother to speak in Japanese, fully aware of Izaya's knowledge of his native tongue.

Simon seems sad as he stares at the Japanese man, but holds tighter onto the girl in his arms. The Information broker ignores the look he is giving him, and shrugs.

"Who said anything about that?" He does not bother to hide his devious smile at the small amount of anger flickering on the old man's face, and his expression only seems to have aggravated him—much to his amusement, of course.

No, they won't owe him anything, but the girl…Sharp eyes narrow onto the girl for a millisecond. He can work with this, he always finds a way. If she's as half as interesting as these two men, then he is willing to give her a bait she can't refuse. If she is alone, and broken, then she'll be caught into his web just like many others have before.

Like Saki.

And soon, like Namie-san.

"Shall we?" Izaya doesn't give them a chance to question his motives further as he quickly turns his back to them and onto the direction of the Hospital.

He has to make a visit, anyway.

* * *

_Change can go either way._

_It can be good, or it can be bad. But most of the time, change does not happen in an instant. It can be like caterpillar waiting in its cocoon, slowly transforming into something beautiful, or like an animal being slowly burned to death. Only time will tell._

_He, the snake-like man, despite his intelligence, does not know what his change might bring him. He thinks great things can sprout from this situation, and maybe he is right. He's always right, afterall._

_He leaves the hospital as soon as he finishes paying the expenses for that girl. Saki had been asleep when he came, and decided he'll come back later for her. That last part hasn't changed. His visits are random, but he knows that seeing him makes the teenager happy. He does not care for her; however, she's his puppet, so he needs to keep his dolls in top shape._

_When he came back home after doing everything he had to do, the silence brings him comfort._

_Change takes time._

_He doesn't feel different from earlier that day. It was unexpected and irritating, but he knew why he did the things he did. The man now bearing a grim expression is very lonely. Though he knows if someone were to care for him, he wouldn't—couldn't accept their love the way they want to, despite how much it makes him happy. This girl owes him now, and he'll find use of it later on. He knows he could very well force anyone to keep him company, like the girl, Celty…Shinra…but…_

_He has accepted the loneliness he has many years ago, and knows the only bonds he will ever have are with his sisters. The worst part of it all…he doesn't mind. His infatuation with humans gives him a masochistic side. He loves humans, but won't let anyone come close to him. He loves playing with them, but it stings when he sees the disdain in their eyes. He loves observing them, but their caution is like acid licking his heart._

_But he really doesn't mind, and that hasn't changed._

_It will never change._

_He's fine with that._

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a frighten girl trapped in a place that she suspects might be another universe. No—she's not crazy. At first glance she might appear meek and fragile; however, she's anything but. There is more to her than meets the eye, something that only the two kind Russian men know.

She looks healthier than she did just yesterday. The cuts are healing, though they will leave scars, and she's not dirty or grimy anymore. Her brown hair is smooth and in a messy bun. She ditched the crutches because she figured that they're not much of a use if she can walk well enough without them. However, despite how comfortable she might appear, the deep blush and her fingers picking at her clothes give away the absolute horror in her.

The thin, white sweater doesn't help hideaway her body like she's used to, and along with the skinny jeans, and black sneakers, she feels practically naked.

She's not used to this—this appearance, this change, or this situation for that matter.

The sudden meekness she is not used to is dominating because of the two men in front of her staring at her like they can see right through her clothes…and well…because she's scared of them, especially the blond one.

"I'm Tom Tanaka," the darker of the two says in English, bowing politely.

Ivy is surprise by how fluently he sounds, and it helps bring her some comfort, though the early morning, the smell of fish in Russia Sushi, and the clothes don't help her at all.

But she swallows down all the bad stuff and hesitantly smiles. "Ivy Feldberg."

Tom points behind him towards the ticking time bomb leaning against the restaurant's entrance. "This is Shizuo Heiwajima," said man waves lazily towards her.

Ivy nods. "Nice to meet you."

But it's not nice. The more she looks at the men around her, the more she begins to think that this whole thing isn't just a screwed dream, and that is _bad_.

"He speaks English well enough," Tom says as he shoves his hands into his pockets, "Whenever one of us isn't around, the other will help you. Simon says you want to learn to speak Japanese, right?"

Ivy nods. "Y-Yeah. I mean, I already know a little, but I never had anyone I could practice with, so I just seemed to have forgotten."

"Good, that means it won't take that much for you to learn."

Ivy sighs, wishing nothing more than to contact her father. He will know what to do.

The girl almost jumps at the old, strong hand gently gripping her shoulder. Her brown eyes begin to sting as she looks up to see Dennis, and not the man she has grown to depend on for her whole life. She swallows down her disappointment, forcing to keep her emotions in check.

Dennis says something in Japanese, which Ivy assumes is, "Thank you," and bows politely.

Tom waves his hand, speaking back to him the language she doesn't understand.

His dark eyes turn towards her. "Do you remember what happened to you?" Tom says in English, as he gestures towards Ivy's injuries.

Though Dr. Chiba had said that her injuries are more than likely from the plane crash that she's "supposedly" part of, she doesn't buy it. There are no burn marks on her body, and…she's _alive_. Her survival is a sure sign that she was never in that plane in the first place.

Ivy shrugs. "I really don't remember."

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

The girl opens her mouth to snap at his nosey attitude, but keeps herself in check. Now isn't the time to be pissing people off. She has no right, and certainly not the sanity to do so. So, Ivy nods her head, deciding to go with the truth.

"My leg," she points to the one with the cast. "My ribs are bruised, and it just hurts to walk."

The young girl stares in confusion as Tom sneaks a cautious glance at her two temporary guardians. Her eyes dart to Shizuo, but the concerned look he gives her only makes her angrier.

Tom must have noticed her irritation because he smiles, which looks weird on his face for some reason, and nods. "Alright, we can only teach every morning for a few hours, is that okay?"

Actually it's not. It's like being in school again, and God knows how much of a bad experience _that _was. But despite her mild irritation she nods. "Sure."

"Let's start, then."

* * *

_This girl whom not many know is experiencing something not of this world. It's scary, because she's lonely and terrified. The woman with the brave front is like cat turned feral; it is taking all her willpower not to snap at anyone in her path._

_Her life—for the most part—has been normal. Her father raised her, and maybe that's the very reason why she's such a lonely person, but he's all she ever needed and that has been fine._

_That will change—not just her relationship with the people around her, but her life in general._

_Days fly by, and then a week. The language of this foreign country becomes easier to understand, but hard to speak. Yet, she swallows down all complaints as she grows closer and closer to these men when she would rather not be. But she has no choice._

_This girl—her subtle actions will change our lives. And though we will never notice, she will and there's nothing she can do to stop it._

_Only time will tell if every change she gives to our world will end up for the better._

* * *

Please read and review, it'll help me out a lot if you guys give me your opinion.


	5. Chapter 4: Imaginatio

Hey guys! I want to say that this chapter was extremely hard to write. I planned out all the chapters out, but to write them down into a story, especially this one, is HARD. Maybe it's because I'm not too fond of the three main characters. I much like them in the Light Novels, but in the anime they are very irritating. It's just me, but digging into their minds and keeping them in character was difficult and time consuming. But I tried my best, and though I'm not satisfied with it, I hope you all enjoy it.

Oh, and thanks to all who read and review, also to the ones who favorite and followed. Much appreciated.

* * *

...

Imaginatio

...

* * *

_There was once a girl with a heart drenched with frozen tears  
Constantly hiding behind those near_

_She knows it's futile  
The way she wants to imagine  
But it's better than remembering those nightmares she can't fathom_

_But then she wakes  
Knowing what her day will make  
So she sits there like a zombie trying to survive the endless day_

_The girl has someone though  
Her special friend  
Her name is Saika and she'll cut you till the end_

_Saika whispers things to her  
Those tempting wonders  
But she ignores it  
Trying not to be sucked in by bloody promises_

* * *

We see the world as we would any stranger walking by us every day; in blindness. We live our lives in a sea of lovely ignorance, and for most, that is just fine. Many do not, nor have any desire to seek the every vast wonders of the world set for us to explore, because for a lot, the unknown is a place not worth venturing.

It is scary.

It is dark.

But most of all, we have no knowledge of it.

I guess that's why so many are hesitant to meet new people. It's such a lonely place, to be surrounded by many yet not have any desire to talk or make friends with anyone. It's very normal, but it's tiring and lonesome after a while.

Yet, for some, it's all they will ever know. They tell themselves that it's not so bad to be like this. They smile, laugh, and talk with people, just to show the world how much they're not affected. But even the coldest of human beings all have a weakness that they share with everyone else in the world. Without a friend there to them guide is a living hell.

But it's hard changing yourself—even if you do desire to be someone better, the familiar is a place where you'll be safe. Changing that slice of safe haven is enough to bring most to tears. And though I don't think of myself as those people, it is true how much I want to change, but I just can't because of how intimidating the thought is.

Not just because I am changing me, but for the people around me. It is better for everyone if they know nothing about the other soul residing within mine.

Take this girl for example. She is drawing in a Russian restaurant as she listens to her instructor. She is one of those people terrified of being alone, but is so used to it, that the thought of changing scares her to no end.

She doesn't know it, but she's not alone. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows this to be fact, but she ignores it to protect herself. Drawing, something she loves to do, helps her distract herself. Hearing her teacher's voice, no matter how gruff and intimidating it might be, has helped her as well.

It has been a week, and already these lessons are now part of her.

"Hey, you listening?" The man whom is speaking drawls out the question in a lazy way, but with a hint of irritation lying just beneath his calm exterior. Despite the accent, the younger girl understood him perfectly.

The girl nods slightly, but doesn't take her eyes off of her paper. It's a sketch diary. She always draws things she finds interesting. Right now, she's trying to capture her teacher's imagine onto paper. The girl is slightly irritated by how much the man constantly moves, but all she needs now is to draw his hand.

"Ivy-san."

She doesn't say anything again. Her brown eyes look between her paper and the man in front of her. She doesn't notice the slight tick on his forehead, or they way he's grinding his teeth together.

But the man doesn't explode the way he's used to. She's a girl, for some reason, he always has more patience when it comes to the opposite sex. Also, he's becoming slowly attached to his new friend. In his eyes, this girl is like a lost puppy, so she needs the guidance and protection.

He didn't like how Tom had accepted their friends' favor without consulting him first, but it's not so bad. The only time he finds himself angry is when she's plainly ignoring him, just like how she's doing now. But even then, he figures that the girl just isn't interested in learning in general. He can understand that, but she wanted this in the first place, so why isn't she paying attention?

"Ivy-san…" The man grunts as he tries to keep his anger in check. He pushes his sunglasses forward and tries again. "Ivy-san."

Heiwajima sighs, leaning back again his chairs as he searches the restaurant for Dennis. The place is surprisingly full, so the old man is in the back cooking. Figures.

Finally to the point where he will destroy something, Shizuo growls. "Just what the hell are you doing anyway?" The man says in his native tongue. He reaches out grabbing what he assumes is her notebook. Ivy reaches out, but Shizuo moves it out of her way.

"Shi-Shizuo y-y-you bastard," Ivy snarls in English. The girl gets up from her seat, slapping her hands on the table. "Give that back!"

Said man ignores the girl, and instead takes a look at her sketch. He raises an eyebrow, impressed by her skill. She's dead on with his expression, his scowl, and the way his hand rested on his face. But then something dawns on him.

His eyes darken beneath his shades. "You were _drawing _instead of listening?!" Shizuo shakes the book in her face to show how much he's irritated, but doesn't let her touch it. "Have I been talking to myself the whole fucking time?"

Ivy pouts, understanding what he's saying, and tries to reach for her sketch diary. "I was li-listening, idiot! So give it back!"

"Then what did I just say?"

The girl gives up. She crosses her arms, pouting and glaring like a child. "You were saying…h-how…we all should speak in Ja-Japanese only, to help me out." Now feeling guilty, Ivy dips her head. "Sorry."

Shizuo sucks the air in between his teeth, not falling for the guilt trip that Tom-san falls for many times this past week. He instead ignores her in favor for looking through her sketch book. Shizuo chooses not to respond her to protest and poor choice of words.

He flips a page back, and whistles.

It's a picture of the restaurant from the outside. She must have sat somewhere uncomfortable for her to draw from this angle. She even drew the many people bustling around the street. His lips even twitches once he spots Simon trying to pass out pamphlets.

"You're good."

Ivy snatches her book from his hands. She hugs it into her chest, protecting it as if it is a precious child. Shizuo scoffs. He really just wants to go out and take a smoke.

"So, are you willing to do it?"

Ivy perks up. "Hm? Do what?"

"Speak only Japanese?"

Ivy is a bet hesitant, for more reasons than one. She's been learning Japanese for a week now, more if you include those classes she took years ago. So far, she can understand it almost perfectly, speaking it is the problem. The language has more dialects, honorifics, and different forms than Russian does, or English. In every language, there's always the formal and informal way of speaking, and it doesn't really matter which one you choose to pick. The formal way is also always the more difficult to learn, however.

Ivy is very informal and doesn't bother with formalities, since, to her, it's a pain. Maybe it's Asia in general, but to speak to a complete stranger informally is extremely rude and you'll be looked down upon. This type of thing has never bothered her until now. She's in a different country she has no knowledge about—she has to respect their ways if she wants to remain invisible.

Shizuo is right. The more she speaks it, the more it will get stuck in her head. It's just her—her fear of change is pathetic and it gives her boundaries she's not willing to cross. But what choice does she have?

The lonely girl just wants her father to help, but she can't call her father now.

Maybe through email, but her dad is a man who is skilled at hiding. It won't be easy contacting him just like that.

Nodding, Ivy finally sighs. "O-Okay…" the way she said the word sounds weird on her tongue and it makes her cheeks go red. Just a simple Japanese word and already she feels as if she'll fail with in a second.

Shizuo eyes her for a second.

The girl is extremely guarded. It's as if she thinks the whole world is out to get her. He really shouldn't be surprised, after what she went through, little people can come out of it sane. She can't seem to remember though, and the man supposes that's a good thing, yet…

The man with the blond hair shakes his head, taking his train of thoughts out of territories that aren't his problem. He instead feels relief that for once since he met her, he'll be speaking in his native tongue—normally that is. He cusses at her in Japanese whenever he's pissed off or can't control his emotion. It'll be weird for her, but if she's really going to stay here for a year, then this girl has to deal with it.

No exceptions.

Tom would have been better doing this, the man thinks. The guy is much more sensitive than he'll ever be. Ivy needed to hear this kind of stuff from his senpai, but he's out on business. Weird business—one he's sure he'll never be part of. So it was weird teaching this girl all by himself—yet refreshing. For once in his life, Heiwajima Shizuo was taking someone under his wing.

He's teaching her the ropes of this place. What to do and what not to do. And he does like teaching her—despite how much she can irritate him with her short attention span, it's nice to know that he's doing something good in this world, and not something destructive.

Maybe this is his calling.

Shizuo smirks, scoffing at the thought.

"Wha-what?"

The violent man can already tell why she's so hesitant in speaking his language. So far, she sounds like Simon. Though, she said just one simple word, not a phrase. It just sounds awkward on her tongue. It's a pain in the ass, the man thinks, but if she speaks like their Russian friend, then he'll have to teach her full time.

Shizuo shakes his head at the girl's concern. "It's nothing." He points toward her sketch book. "Are you willing to put that way? We're not done yet." The way he asks her makes it seem like it isn't a question.

And it clearly isn't. Ivy can read people as well as her father can, a trait she's not sure if it's a gift or a curse. But in this case, she can't afford making this man any angrier than she already did. So she nods, sighing as she hands her little heaven towards her teacher.

They stay like that for hours more until Dennis asks her to buy their groceries. When Shizuo offered her to help, she denied him.

He doesn't know it just by looking at her, but despite her injuries and innocent appearance, she's done most things on her own—good and bad. Being treated like she's some kind of child angers her. But, she's good at covering her anger. So, she smiles at the tall man, shaking her head, and takes her leave.

And soon, my story will change.

* * *

_There was once a boy with a heart full of hate and sorrow  
He walks with a past he wants to burrow  
He hides behind a mask that cover his disdainful smiles  
As he tries to distance himself for miles and miles_

_But it is not so easy  
As he finds himself aching away  
This guilt he feels, won't it please go away?_

_He knows it won't  
So it's not surprising  
As finds himself walking back to the constant nagging_

_But he is a coward  
So he begins to run once again_

_From her_

_From _him

_Because it is what he knows best_

* * *

We live our lives in a constant sea of lies and deceit. It surrounds us, crashing into our daily lives like an invisible tsunami. Yet, most don't notice this constant happening every day. We walk to our destination thinking the same shit will occur again, and we're right—it does, but beneath our normalcy lies something much worse than any kind of horror games out there.

We hide ourselves from the people we love. So, what's worse? Pretending to be something you're not, or being exactly who you are? The question is pretty vague, but so what—you hear this, and immediately know what it means, and if you don't—well done, you're the only truly pure person in this world.

I can go on and rant about that to be ourselves is the only true freedom we'll ever have, but that's a bunch of bullshit. Those murders—those criminals you see every day in the media did the things they did because it's what they enjoy doing, and fuck anyone who tries to repress their true feelings. Us—we human beings constantly hide what we really are in fear of what others think.

Those who don't aren't very well liked.

To me, it's just pathetic, but I'm no better. I say this, and it makes it me a hypocrite. But it's true.

Just look at this chick—the one with the huge boobs, she walks around the market holding tons of bags. It's obvious she needs help, I mean look at her leg, her scratched up face. The girl is putting up a brave front because to her, it's scary to be seen as weak in front of complete strangers.

No matter how much her leg begs her for rest, or how her ribs burn with each breath she takes, she goes on, because she owes people. But she's not as honorable as she wants to be, though. Neither you, nor I know what really lurks beneath her heart—and maybe neither does her. A small part of her subconscious is aware of the part so familiar to that side of her father, the part she's not willing to neither accept nor see.

But she carries on her charade of her naïve mask, pretending to be a girl with nothing more than to have dreams like every other person.

There's another girl. She's also boobalicious, and way more honest than the first girl. Her name is Sonohara Anri. She's walking around the market as well trying to find her missing friend. In her mind, she wants to believe that she's actually worried for her, but she knows that's half-false.

She needs Mika—she needs someone to leech off of. This…presence she feels is constantly sucking away the emotions she has in her, until she's nothing more than a lonely parasite. See…she knows what she is, and she's fine with that. I can admire that, at least. She hides more, but at least she's not downright playing you—me.

Right now, the sixteen year old looks left to right with undisguised anxiety. She has a strong feeling her friend is walking in this crowd. She doesn't believe that she's "out on vacation". It's a load of bull if you ask her.

Cute, large brown look between the back the heads of each person. None interest her, and she grows impatient, that is, until she spots a girl with short, orange-brown hair walking towards the exit of the market. Her heart skips a beat, because she _knows _that's her friend. That's her hair and her small, thin body.

"Mika?" Anri smiles, relieved and happy at the same time as she runs towards her. Her friend doesn't answer, but it doesn't discourage her. "Mika!"

The young girl catches up to her friend, grabs her arms and pulls her. She expected those familiar laughing, brown eyes. That constant smile always plastered on her face, a teasing comment—anything except what she is seeing.

The girl is shocked as she observes the other. This stranger has a pair of beautiful green eyes that she has ever seen; they sparkle like emeralds. Mika is lightly tanned, but this girl's face is like porcelain, even that gruesome scar on her neck doesn't take away her beauty. But…

It isn't Mika.

Surprised, flustered and embarrassed her eyes look at anything but the girl. She lets go of her hand as if it burned her, bowing immediately after. "I-I thought you were my friend. I'm so sorry!"

The boobalious chick runs away. She scolds herself, almost agreeing with the whispering voice in her head for her complete idiocy. She knows she acted on impulse, but this was her last chance to prove her consciousness that her friend _is _okay. But, now she's not so sure.

She runs and runs, head bowed down, eyes closed to keep the tears of embarrassment locked in, she never noticed an older woman walking in front of her. And so, they crashed into each other. The younger one immediately regains her bearings—having suffered much worse, she only feels a dull ache over her body.

Anri shakes her head, confused and slightly bothered by the burns she feels on her hand, but her main concern is the person she ran into so carelessly.

The teenager looks at the woman in front of her. She doesn't seem much older than her, but she can tell by her body that she has a few years over her. Her dark brown hair is tied into a ponytail, though her long bang swept to one side is covering her face, she can tell by her groans that the older girl is in pain.

Anri sits on her knees, accidently crushing one of her grocery bags and immediately feels guilty. All her spent money is scattered around them. Finally, her large eyes notice the brace on her leg. She can feel her face turn red upon realizing what she just did to this girl—injured person!

"I-I-I'm so sorry!" She says as reaches out to touch the girl. "I didn't mean to."

Sonohara stops. For some reason, a certain feeling of hatred spread throughout her body.

But she ignores it and instead tries to search the other's expression. "Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

The older woman shakes her head reverently. "N-No." Anri catches the slight accent. So, she's a foreigner.

"Please, I think I harmed you—"

"I said I good!" Anri is taken back by the girl's snarl, but doesn't say anything.

However, the foreign girl is looking at her as if she's a shark out of water. Like a boobalicious girl more boobalicious than ever before—like her boobs are covering her chin or something. It makes the younger uncomfortable. But just as the expression showed on her face, it disappears just as quickly.

"Sorry," the woman says, bowing awkwardly in her sprawled position. "I…I shouldn't yell."

Her phrase is awkward, but Anri knows what she was saying. So, she bows slightly as well. "I'm sorry too." She gets up from her position, patting the dirt and grime off her uniform before lending out a hand for the woman to take. The woman seems hesitant as she eyes the flesh, but she sighs and grabs it.

The feeling of loathe she felt earlier attacks her full force. It knocks the air out of her.

(Human….Human…Monster—Monster! Human-Monster! Kill it! Kill it!)

Anri's eyes widen. For once since she accepted this soul into hers', she feels fear. Saika has never been this angry or terrified at the same time. Her brown eyes stare into the taller girl's, trying to see what Saika is seeing.

(MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!)

Try as she might, Anri can only see confusion in those coffee-brown eyes. Why? What's going on here, she wonders. What could possibly be wrong with this girl? She's seems normal. Normal hair color, normal eye color, normal face, normal everything!

—except for her huge tits, but Anri-chan isn't thinking of that.

"Y…" the girl bites her lip and tries again, "You…um…okay?"

(INHUMAN! MONSTER! MONSTERMONSTER!)

Anri snatches her hand back from the other girl, hugging it into her chest. It's only now that realize how irregular her breathing is, and how much she's sweating. Light brown eyes continue to stare bullets into the girl's eyes because she is confused and terrified at the moment.

She closes her eyes and forces herself to calm down. Saika is nothing. She is a sword. She doesn't know what it means to be human. She has no right to judge this girl.

(KILL IT!)

Anri shakes her head. She feels a warm hand on her shoulder, and upon hearing Saika's roar, she flinches from the touch. The woman, now more concerned than irritated struggles with what she's going to say, the girl notices.

But she doesn't give her the opportunity.

Anri bows one last time. "S-Sorry again, I have to go."

Once again, she runs off, but that same hand stops her. Anri slaps her hand off her shoulder, a little surprised, but not as surprised as the woman staring at her like she's crazy. Maybe she is. Her family destroyed what little sanity she had. Being emotionless suits her just fine. So why is this woman affecting her so much?

The curvy woman ignores her earlier action and instead clasps her hands together. "P-Please…help," she points to the fallen groceries on the dirty cement. Some were saved by the plastics, or packages they were in.

(Kill it. Kill it. INHUMAN!)

The young teenager looks between the food, the girl, and her injuries and finally sighs. Her guilt overpowers her fear. She knows there's nothing wrong with the girl in front of her, but Saika is in panic and that has never happened before. She doesn't know what to do.

The sadistic sword has never forced her to do anything, because it knows she has full power. But now, it's as if Saika is pulling onto her hair so tightly, that she has no choice but to bend to her will in order to keep her head snapping from their push-and-pull force. She can hear the sword's voice clearer than ever. It's strange.

But Anri knows this girl is a human being. She has the injuries to prove it. So she ignores her sword's feelings, and decides to help the older woman. Even then, she keeps her distance.

"Thank you," the woman says.

They pick up everything, including the ruined groceries. Strangers pass by and wander what these stranger women are doing. One girl doesn't take notice of the attention while the other can't help but think that those people need to mind their own damn business.

"Where do you live?" Anri wonders tentatively as they begin to walk.

Despite the older woman's protest, she holds the most. It's wrong for her to let an injured stress themselves.

"We walk…together."

Anri doesn't understand what she says, but gets the underlining message. She can barely speak Japanese, so instead of telling her where she lives, she can just show the teenager.

They walk for blocks ahead, and within those steps Saika quiets down a bit, but that underlying hatred never did disappear. But she ignores it, deciding that this shouldn't affect her. Not the way Saika wants her. So they walk and walk with comfortable silence looming over these beautiful women.

And soon, my kick-ass story will change.

* * *

_There once was a boy with a heart of gold  
But don't be mistaken  
He hides things darker than most_

_You see him on the streets  
And think to yourself  
'He's a good young fellow  
Whose very sweet'_

_But when his eyes see you  
He's silently judging  
Those from good and bad  
And those not worthy of society_

_He pretends to be scared when thugs come near  
They yell and shout  
And all he does is cower in fear_

_But beneath his nervous gaze  
Lies something worse  
You see, in his mind  
Those thugs are being choked over and over again._

_And he won't stop  
Until they're blue in the face_

_…._

_Or until they drop dead_

* * *

We live out our lives as if we are part of a happy charade, knowing yet not acknowledging the horrors going on the everyday life. What makes us such cowards? What makes us run from what we know as fact? I'd like to think that we hide our minds from such things because we don't want to risk our loved one's lives. But that doesn't make any sense, since we see it right in front of our eyes, yet don't do anything to stop it. Whether it's theft, bulling, any kind of abuse, etc—we ignore it because it doesn't directly affect us. I have learned to accept this as fact.

I heard in the news of a young girl getting sexually assaulted on the streets, yet no one did anything to stop it. There were hundreds of bystanders yet only a few of those criminals. Why didn't they want to help the poor girl knowing how much they could over power those men? I was young when I heard it, and even today, questions like that sprout into my mind whenever I see bad in this world.

I'm no better.

My eyes wonder throughout the streets of Ikeburkuro and the more I look, the more I see the danger. Color gangs, violence, hatred—it's everywhere. I don't have power in real life—that my excuse for not doing anything. If I did try something against those guys, I'll get beat up for sure. The internet is my only true source of strength. I have my own group, and my members find me mysterious, and despite not knowing how I even look like, they follow my every order as if I was God itself.

Lately, nothing has been going as I wanted. The Dollars are getting out of control, and the more The Dollars get blamed for those petty crimes, the more anger and guilt I feel. But—I don't do anything.

Why?

I guess I'm a coward. Virtually no one listens to me anymore, just like real life. I don't know how to fight, and the thought of drawing blood makes me nervous. It's normal for many, I suppose.

Ah, I get it now.

I have a pampered and normal life; nothing bad has happened to me. I have loving parents, a roof over my head, food on the table, and wonderful friends. I can't complain. My life is…_normal_. That's more than what most have.

In a way, that man is just like me.

This man whom I have yet to meet never had a bad life. He grew up rich—he got anything he wanted. He was admired by many for his academic grades and his set of skills in many things. But he did grow up without his parents constantly gawking over him. Yes, he knows his parents love him, but they were often away that he never really experienced it, which is why he and his sisters grew up with a twisted sense of love.

He never complained. Yet—

This man with the dark smirk grew up like I did, but he sees the world as it is. He sees the bad looming over our lives. He sees and says nothing—and not because he's a coward, but because he can't seem to come up with much sympathy to care. Not caring isn't the same as caring but not doing anything to stop it.

Everything that man does is for his benefit only. Why? Why did he turn out like this? What does that say about me?

I don't know this yet, but this information broker will bring out the worse in me.

He sees me walking the along the streets of Ikebukuro alongside Kida-kun with a look that doesn't bother to hide the mischief dancing in his eyes. I don't notice his presence stalking behind us, as I'm in my head thinking of stuff that set my mood to a bad one.

This man sees me as an opportunity. He knows it will take little to manipulate my naïve nature to his will simply because I am child-like and have no knowledge of the this jungle-like city.

But he stops as he sees recognizes the profile of a woman ahead of us. Seeing her here, along with me, makes the excited grin turn dark. We see them, and speak with them. The two of us help the women and we join their little group unaware of the man giggling to himself just across the street.

So, the man with eyes that hides dangerous secrets continues to follow me once again, now with new plans, and new purposes.

And soon, my story will change.

* * *

Please leave feedback. Also, I keep forgetting to put this on, but I DON'T OWN DURARARA, THIS IS ALL JUST FOR FUN AND I GAIN NO MONEY OUT OF THIS.


	6. Chapter 5: Inlusio

**I'm going to take a break after this chapter for obvious reasons; this story is taking over my LIFE. I need to do other stuff. I'll keep working on the plot and the next chapters, but I'm also going to be updating my other stories, which have been very neglected because of this story. So yeah...It think I won't update for maybe a month, or two. But when I come back with this story, I hope I have improve enough. That's a lie, I'll probably just won't update for a few weeks, but still! I need to distance myself from this. For two years, almost three, this idea has been nagging me non-stop and it still won't let down.**

**Ah, I need to get out, dammit!**

**Anyway, until then.**

* * *

...

Inlusio

...

* * *

_A man with an air that demands respect takes a deep breath. He, who despite killing men with his own hands, gently gestures his guest to take a seat once he recuperates from the initial shock . His two bodyguards recognize their visitor, and so relax. Yet, their boss seems on edge. Eyes furrowing with the slight confusing marring his face, he tries to keep his exterior calm._

_This man might be someone he's well acquainted with, but what he's asking from them seems almost ridiculous._

_The gruff leader is tempted to bring out a smoke, but disregards the idea, knowing how much his client hates those deadly drugs. So instead, he leans his elbows against his knees and brings his face towards the younger man. His harsh appearance is useful to intimidate many to his submission, but it won't work on this young man, so he won't try it._

_"I don't understand what you want from me." This man, a deadly man through and through, implies beneath his respectful words that this meeting is adjourned._

_He should have known the young doctor would fight tooth and blood to get what he wants._

* * *

The best way she could explain herself is that she panicked. She saw the young female, realizing the resemblance of her running, the scenery, and didn't want anything bad to happen to her. Why? She doesn't know. It's as if a switch flicked on and she had this sudden need to protect. Anri's reaction towards her was stranger itself, but all she could think about was to not to get her alone.

Ivy succeeded.

But then they ran into Masaomi and Mikado on her way to her home. Masaomi's comments towards her had made her extremely uncomfortable, but the resemblance with their meeting was extremely similar towards one of the episodes, except no hideous teenage girls or a sociopathic freak.

And then it hit her.

When she accepted reality and her situation—very, very _reluctantly_—she wondered if the events that happened in the anime and light novels will happen now, or the characters just exist but there's no story. If it were the latter, than great, it makes things easier for her. But it's not the case as she saw the three teenagers interact.

So, she began asking Kida questions about Ikebukuro, and the things he told her completely eradicated the idea of no stories. He talked about the Headless Rider, about the Awakuzu group, about anything and everything she should avoid. He mentions Shizuo, Simon, and Izaya. And upon hearing his name, Ivy kept looking behind her back for any signs of the coy man. She remembers that he had been following Mikado for a perfect opportunity to pounce.

And she once again felt that sudden need to protect these kids from a man that will eventually lead one of them to their ruin, one-half dead, and the other in constant look-out for danger. Ivy has never had any younger siblings, nor does she have any relatives for her to know the feeling of having kids to look after—to protect.

But she loves children. To her, they're pure human beings and need to be shielded away from all the bad in this world. So, as she looked between the three teenagers, that same feeling began to bubble and she caved. Anri and she could have easily carried her stuff back to Dennis's apartment, but she used her injuries as a way to get Mikado and Masaomi to help them. And it worked.

But now she regrets everything.

The apartment room suddenly becomes smaller upon entering it. The energetic blond boy's voice rings in her ear, giving her ear an uncomfortable feeling. The small kitchen causes the four bodies to touch as they put the groceries on the table. It took all her willpower not to scream her lungs out.

She's not used to people. She has no social skills. She becomes a blabbering idiot in a group of people surrounding her. She's just a shut-in who never bothered to brush up on her social skills. She doesn't need anybody besides her father—but these kids!

She really wants to get them out of the place, but the thought of them meeting up with Izaya keeps playing in her mind, so she eventually sucks it up.

But she shouldn't. She shouldn't get involved in the story. Let it play out as it should and everything will stay the same as she had seen. Ivy realized the monumental mistake she just caused by having these three not play out their day as it should have—who knows what kind of change this will bring.

If there weren't any people with her right now, she would have gone in full panic mode. She can't lose control in front of strangers—strangers she knows more than herself, but that's beside the point. Instead, Ivy smiles at the teenagers, bowing as she learned from Tom. It's respectful, but it just feels weird.

"Thank you."

Masaomi waves off her false appreciation with a flick of his hand. "No problem." He smirks suggestively at her. "Anything for a babe—"

"Kida-kun!" Mikado scolds.

"Correction— a babe with huge boobies."

While Ivy's face turned beet red, Mikado kept apologizing and frowning at Masaomi. But the blond had a serious face, and keeps nodding to himself on the comment he had just said. This is the kind of stuff that makes her uncomfortable around the blond kid. He has no qualms with pointing out the obvious, good and bad.

Her boobs are just the perfect thing to exploit for his sexually frustrated needs, and she doesn't know how to react to it besides try to hide them with her crossed arms. Again, she's extremely tempted to kick them out for more than just the obvious reasons, but then she thinks of Izaya, and stops herself.

Ivy regains her bearings, smiling sheepishly at the teenagers. "It fine." The woman tucks her bang behind her ear and gestures towards the stove behind her. "Um…you want eat?"

Mikado opens his mouth to say something, but his friend beats him to the punch. "Yeah, sure, I'm starvin'."

The shy boy bows. "You don't have to, but I appreciate it all the same."

Ivy turns towards Anri. She gently smiles at the younger girl because the teenager seems so cautious around her and she doesn't want her to get the wrong idea.

But the younger female shakes her head. "N-No, I'm fine." Her eyes move between Mikado and Ivy. "I h-have to go."

Ivy reaches out towards the girl, but stops when she sees her flinch. Instead, the woman clasps her hands together. "I appreciate help. Eat, please?"

The three stare at the shy girl as she contemplates the woman's request. It makes her uncomfortable, and Ivy knows if this continues she'll stay. So the older woman begs with her eyes until Anri eventually nods.

This is a bad idea, but that instinct of hers' just won't go away.

"O.K," Ivy waves the girl over to the table, and then suggests the three to sit down, which they do. "I make hotdog? Special!"

Masaomi laughs hesitantly. "Eh…american food? I've eaten enough of that."

Ivy shakes her head. "No. Umm…different. Secrat recipete!" The three teenagers look at the woman in confusion. She begins to frown, questioning what she said wrong.

"I think she meant 'secret recipe'?" Mikado suggests.

"Yes, that," Ivy taps her nose. "You eat it, yes?"

Masaomi shrugs. "As long as it's good, then whatever." The other two nod.

"You two," she points to the two boys. "Cut tomatoes and onions," she orders as she gets said fruit and vegetable out. She goes towards one of the bottom drawers and takes out the cutting board. She hands the boys the stuff and push them towards the counter at the end of the stove.

"But we just sat down." Ivy ignores the blond's protest.

She points at Anri. "You…cook bacon and boil sausages."

Nodding, Anri gets up. "How much?" She asks.

Ivy shrugs. "Eight or ten?" Anri nods and goes to get the supplies.

Okay, she thinks to herself, _I'll go toast the buns_.

Her father taught her how to make these kinds of hotdogs. Toast the buns with butter, and wrapped bacon with boiled sausages are all things his own father had taught him to do. It is by no means necessary a Russian recipe—but her father had always loved the taste of bacons and American hotdogs, and so Grandpa had made up this recipe just for him.

As the four work, Ivy couldn't help but notice the way the three interact. She purposely forced Mikado to work nearest to the stove so he and Anri could be close together. When they all first met up, she had noticed how awkward Mikado was around Anri, and how Anri was so keen on avoiding him. She doesn't remember them being so…uncomfortable around each other. Sure, in the anime they were already awkward, but it's like Anri is scared of Mikado, and he's just terrified of even touching her.

What's up?

The twenty year old flips a bun over as she takes another peak at the young couple. She almost sighs out frustration. The younger girl takes a few steps away from the shy boy, so the gap between them is even bigger, but now all she's doing is invade her personal bubble.

The teenage girl uses a tongs to move the hotdogs around so each of them could boil equally. She uses her other hand to quickly flip a couple of bacons. This action causes her elbow to smash into Ivy's still, and freshly bruised ribs.

That hurt more than it should of.

Wheezing, Ivy caresses her ribs in order to keep the sharp throb at bay, but to no avail. Faintly, she can hear Anri apologize incessantly, but she simply waves her concerns off. "Fine. I fine."

"Sorry," Anri says one last time before looking down at stove, ashamed.

"Are you okay, Feldberg-san?" Mikado rushes to her side and begins to pat her back as she tries to regain her bearings.

Ivy pushes him back to his position. "No. I fine."

Masaomi also joins in to grate her nerve. "You sure? You seem pretty bad."

Ivy grits her teeth together, frustrated at the constant noise that she's not used to. It's unnerving and simply terrifying to hear so many voices and to see so many bodies at the same time. With Simon and Dennis, it's different, simply because they are quiet men in the comfort in their own home.

The only time they spend time together is during work, but at least it's one at time and in a larger room.

These teenagers are suffocating! She wants to kick them out, but then Izaya! But she can't handle so many people at once, but then she thinks about what will happen to Masaomi, and how Mikado will turn out, and how Anri will be in constant danger, so she immediately banishes the thought of them being exposed by such a man.

But he might not even be out there!

But she's not sure.

She wasn't supposed to run into these brats, or anybody for that matter. Dennis and Simon are the only exception, simply because in some ways, they remind her of her father. They are her familiar, but it's slowly being ebbed away the more she meets the other casts.

It's too much to take at one time, and she's not sure how long she will be able to withstand it.

Luckily, before she's able to scream her lungs out, the home phone beings to ring.

Breathless, she smiles. "I-I be back." Looking for any excuse to escape, Ivy runs out of the stuffed kitchen.

The phone is next to "her" pullout bed—the whole living room, which is surprisingly big, technically belongs to her, including the phone. Her new clothes are being kept in a spare closet they had no use for.

Ivy quickly grabs the white phone and answers, "Hello?"

"Yes, is Dennis Lenevski there at the moment?"

Her blood turns cold. A dreadful feeling begins to surround her upon realizing who this person is. Though, it's slightly higher, and less…jolly, she recognizes this playful voice. Ivy swallows, terrified and yet extremely irritated that he would contact her guardians' number just to get to Mikado. His voice reminds her of a sadist cooing their victims before slicing them to pieces, bit by bit.

The young woman had excepted herself to panic—or scream till her lungs bled, but her instinct to protect those younger than kicks in full force, so now that initial feeling of fear is gone, and now all that's left is bitterness.

Ivy clicks her tongue, as she is unable to fully control her emotions. "No…he no here."

"Oh, where is he?"

Yeah, for sure—this person is Orihara Izaya. Ivy was able to detect that slight mocking tone he constantly uses. She knows it's him—she just knows it.

Ivy looks back at the kitchen to check on the brats, and upon seeing how well they are she leaves the living room and goes into Dennis's for more privacy.

"Work…uh, Russia Sushi," Ivy says with repressed anxiety as she closes the door behind her.

When he laughs, it makes her skin crawl. Though it can be described as sheepish, she knows who's really behind the other line. She's very scared she'll fall for his act.

"I'm sorry, but is there anyone with you that can translate for you?"

Her reaction to his words is immediate. She is able to hide her scoff with a soft grunt, but her rage beings to grow, along with her fear. This man followed Mikado all the way to Dennis's and Simon's place, and now he's exploiting her lack of speaking skills for his own need. If she were to be any other person, she would have fallen for this. She would have passed the phone onto someone else's hand simply because she would have been too embarrassed, but because she knows what's going on and who's on the other line, she refuses to play into his trap.

But then she begins to think. Ivy had never liked Izaya. While the rest of the fandom expresse undying love for him, she despises his character. He has no qualms with ruining lives and enjoys doing so. He's manipulative, and a hypocrite in his own beliefs. He speaks of humanity as if he doesn't associate with them. To her, Izaya seems to think of himself as a higher being—like a God.

Such arrogance and superiority pisses her off. His type of people had ruined her life—along with her father's, though that's half the truth. And now, he thinks he'll be able to play with her strings. Maybe—_maybe_—if she does pass the phone to Masaomi, who hates Izaya more than she does, he won't give the older man the chance to talk.

But Izaya's not stupid; he'll use _some _ploy to expose Masaomi of his fears, and she doesn't want the annoying kid to suffer anymore than he has to. Anri is even less of an option because of how scared she is of everything, and he'll use that against her to pass the phone that's a bit more extroverted than her—which is Mikado.

No—_no_, she can't get involved, but if she doesn't try to postpone the inevitable, then right now Izaya will win. It's a _bad, bad_ idea to intervene in their destinies, but she always had this protecting instinct that all started when she was little herself, and that trait never did disappear.

No matter what—good and bad—she won't let him get near these kids in her presence. But she has to catch him off guard to keep his mind off Mikado. It takes her a while, but once she comes up with an idea, her scowl turns into a small smirk.

By pissing him off, she'll put her own life in danger, but her tunnel vision refuses to dwell on the ominous thought.

She opens her mouth, and in turn catches the attention of a man who can easily crush her life. "I know you speak Russian."

When he doesn't speak for several seconds, she feels triumph. However, the rational part of her brain begins to question her sanity. Izaya doesn't know her, and in turn she's supposed to have no knowledge of a man that doesn't even live in this area, but if she catches him off guard with her subtle facts that could easily be passed off as information she gained from those around her—which isn't exactly a lie—then maybe he'll be able forget about her sooner or later, and by then it would be too late for him to gain information on Mikado.

"Yes I do," he laughs again, the ominous tone more obvious than before. "But how do you know? We've never met before." Ivy finds his reluctance to speak in Russian a bit unnerving, but she shrugs it off.

"Anybody who knows their home phone number speaks Russian, at least eight times of out ten." She sighs. "What do you want?"

"I just want to speak with Dennis-san—I'm sorry, but who am I speaking to?"

_Shit_. Maybe she doesn't think it through, but really, what else can do to further her way down into hell.

"No one that concerns you."

"I _should _be worried. I mean, you might be a thief." His voice becomes icy. The girl swallows because—yeah, he's pissed off. "If you don't tell me who you are I might end up calling the cops."

Again, that threat would have scared anybody else. No one ever wants to be falsely accused of _anything _to the authorities, since the system is pretty scary and also very broken at times, but she's dealt with many police officers in her life time because of her father's job. Threats like these don't intimidate her, plus, she has personally met a cop who is pretty damn close to the commissioner.

The only scary thing about his whole threat is how cold he sounds. He still has that flimsy jolly tone, but the underlying bite is palpable, and extremely frightening. But she needs to play it off—she won't let him get to her. He's a sociopath; she knows how to deal with people like him, at least, the "dumb" ones—since there's no such thing as an idiot sociopathic. Izaya is probably on genius level—but she can't think of that!

Her dad taught her many things, including deceiving people, and she will put it to use now.

"I could say the same thing about you." She shrugs. "Who knows, you might be a con artist set out to steal Dennis's or Simon's identity. Besides—"the woman sighs, "even if you do call the cops, it will only take Dennis and Simon to vouch for me, and I'm off the hook. I mean, you can't press charges on someone who hadn't committed a crime, right?"

This is just a small victory. If it were face-to-face, this whole situation would be completely different. She panics when in front of people who intimidate her, more so than strangers. Ivy begins to think that it's worse that she knows so much about this man, because then she would on constant look out for his every move, and by then end she still hadn't caught his attention, then good for her, but bad for Mikado.

The young woman is pretty sure she's pissed him off enough for his undivided attention. He may not show it, but his temper is as bad as Shizuo's. That's what she saw in him when she read the translated Light Novels, at least. He'll find a way to show up in her life, and once he sees how pathetic and boring she is, he'll lose interest, and maybe it'll give Mikado enough time to avoid this guy at all cost.

She can't warn him herself because she's not _supposed _to know anybody. It's extremely frustrating knowing these guys' secrets, yet not be able to help them about it. It's like a nun forbidden to help out the need.

Ivy snaps out of her chaotic thoughts after hearing the coy man sigh. "Hm, fine, fine, you win." He laughs. Her small triumph turns sour at his now obvious bitter giggle "Just tell Dennis-san a friend called."

The girl furrows her eyebrows at the request. "Sure, just tell me a name."

"Tell him I'm the guy he met a week ago. I had something very important—well, to them at least. They're taking care of it now." He drops his acts as he says his last words, hearing his sly, yet angered voice, sends chills down her spine. "He'll know who I am."

He hangs up.

Ivy stares at the phone, biting her lip as she thought out her situation. She has never seen Izaya take his anger out in a physical matter—excluding Shizuo. He'll use some shape or form to get near her then squeeze her will to live right beneath her feet, and she probably won't even notice. And all this for a couple of kids, whom she might not even speak with again? Her head's clear now. The danger is gone. Now, she's left with her thoughts, and she can only think of one thing:

What the hell did she get into?

* * *

_He clears his throat upon hearing the doctor's repeated request. The second time he asked without any conviction—without any doubt as he had initially. The man whom many fear and respects knows this is ridiculous, but the young man is a friend. Not a trusted one, but he owes him for the many lives he had saved._

_It's completely idiotic and not worth the time, but this man is a client, so he'll do as he says._

_The hard-faced leader takes out a cell phone out of his pockets—one he uses so no one can trace him back—and gives it to the thinner of his bodyguards._

_"Call Orihara Izaya—"_

_"No!"_

_The feared leader gives his client a questioning gaze. The younger has his eyebrows furrowed into frustrated lines. His posture is stiff, and the man can tell just how edgy his usually calm friend is. This isn't like him, the man thinks, what's going on?_

_"Why?" the man leans back comfortably on his special couch. He expects a long flimsy story._

_"Izaya-kun isn't someone I trust with this information, and neither should you—at all."_

_But despite the request and his far-fetched evidence, this young doctor speaks nothing but the truth._

* * *

Many judge people for their actions, and though for some that might be a fair input, Heiwajima Shizuo likes to think otherwise. Yeah, he's violent, and yeah, maybe he has little to no self-control. So fucking what? That doesn't make him a bad person either. Okay, he's destroyed this city many times before. He also has injured many bystanders who were too stupid to move away, but he's not a _monster_.

He hears a lot of what others say to him. It shouldn't bother him, since they're nothing but a couple of dickheads, but ever since he was a little kid he had been shunned. His only friends were Tom-san, Shinra, and Kasuka. The second one doesn't really count; he's an annoying little shit that follows him around simply because he finds his power worth cutting him open.

Annoying.

But at least he had met a couple of people who don't run from him like he's a demon, and he needs to keep them close, otherwise it'll be his adolescence all over again—he really wouldn't be able to live with that solitude.

So, maybe that's why hearing rumors about him hurts, because they don't know him. He's quiet, polite—a little rough around the edges, but he's respectful to those he meets. That is until they piss him off. Also, he hates violence. His actions contradict with his beliefs, but it's true. He is a violent pacifist.

The gig he has because of Tom-san is good, he supposes, but in the end, he really doesn't want to end up constantly beating money out of people. It happens more than it should, which only adds to his constant rage. Also, he's smelling something shitty lately, and it is grating on his last nerve.

The most calm he has been this past week is during his sessions with Ivy. The girl is weird, insanely guarded, but when she lets down her mask she has a biting dark humor that he can't help but find amusing. And like him, she doesn't beat around the bushes. She does find ways to unintentionally make him mad—like ignore him in favor of drawing as he had just discovered—but he gets it. She's terrified and needs some kind of distraction.

Teaching her brings him to think that maybe his life isn't all about beating the shit out of people, or making them fear him to submission—that isn't a good feeling. But teaching? Who knew it would make him feel like he had a purpose.

But now that his student has been gone for about two hours, he's left bored out of his mind. He distracts himself by flipping through Ivy's sketchbook when he realizes that he could just go out and walk around. But that's a stupid idea. It'll just piss him off. It smells more like shit out there than in here.

Plus, isn't she supposed to be here by now? It doesn't take that long to buy stuff from the market, right? Shizuo sighs. But then again, Dennis has said that this is her first time going out on her own without their other Russian friend accompanying her.

Shizuo gets up from the bar stool. He holds onto Ivy's sketch book and tucks it underneath his belt to keep it in place.

He waves towards Dennis. "I'm going to go check on Ivy-san."

Dennis smiles. "Hm, thank you. I was getting a bit worried. Oh, and if you see Simon tell him he has another delivery coming in."

The blond man nods. Taking out a smoke, he walks towards the exit as he searches his pockets for his cell phone, and he finds it he calls. Ivy doesn't have one, but if she doesn't answer his Russian friends' phone, then hell—who knows where she could be.

Just as he dials the phone number he opens the door and the person behind it makes his blood boil.

The fleabag smirks at him. "Shizu-chan."

Faintly he hears Ivy on the other line, but the blood pumping in his ears drown out her irritated words. Without meaning to, he hangs up on the girl. As he places his phone back into his pocket, the blond man feels a predatory sense he only feels around Izaya. He pisses him off to the point of no return, but imagining the man being torn apart by his own hands gives him a euphoric feeling.

Some would call him a sadist, but again, they would be wrong. He's doing humanity a favor if he ever does get the change to slowly kill this little shit off.

Slowly, Shizuo takes off his sunglasses and leaves it his chest pocket. He absolutely has no control of his actions at this point. All he can think about is destroying this man, so he doesn't notice the way his feral grin sends people running away from the restaurant, or the way Dennis had hidden knives in his sleeves just in case they tried to ruin anything in his shop.

This guy is where his attention lies.

"I thought I told you never to step in Ikebukuro again."

Izaya mockingly sighs at his predatory grin. "Last I heard you had some gig back at the west gate."

Shizuo takes a step forward, making the other step back, though once both were on the street—with many strangers looking at them morbidly— the shorter of the two stood his ground. In some ways, Shizuo is glad this shithead isn't scared of him, but the guy just finds ways to harm him that should have killed others, and that's always at the back of his head.

Of course, not when he's actually in front of him; his tunnel vision gets so bad that it's obvious Orihara is playing him, but he's in too deep with his blood thirst that he honestly doesn't give a shit.

Now is one of those moments.

"I got fired ages ago 'cause of you. So you better give me a good reason why you're _here_."

Izaya scoffs. "Oh come on, is it so bad coming to my favorite sushi restaurant?" The closed eye grin he sends Shizuo makes the heat in his eye flare. "Are you mad?"

"Oh, I'm not mad; I just wanna beat the shit out of you."

Seeing that brief anger flicker on the coy man immediately gives the blond one an adrenaline rush. This is their routine whenever they run into each other. Yet, every time, they become angrier, and more murderous than before.

The raven haired man regains his composure. "You know the problem with you, Shizu-can, is that you can't be swayed by reason, and that's bad. Really bad." He reaches into his pocket, and takes his precious blade. "Now let me go," he says as he sends the taller man a dangerous grin of his own.

Shizuo doesn't give the maggot a chance to run. He runs towards his enemy, with fists at the ready and a roar that sends many screaming away from their position. Izaya dodges just before his deadly punched reaches him, but instead damages the concrete floor. A loud explosion sound echoes throughout the area, and a large debris cloud forms around them, hiding one another from each other's sight.

Shizuo grunts once he realizes he's complete blind from the dusty cloud attacking his eyes. He looks right to left and sees nothing, but a soft knock of a broken boulder behind him is gives him clue. But if there's one thing Izaya is good at, it's his speed. Just as the blond reacts to the sound, he feels a sharp pain on his back. Even if the pain is dull, he can feel his torn clothes along with the icy sensation caressing his back from the blood oozing out.

The bastard cut him.

He hears a faint shout of his name—Dennis—but his rage takes over once again, and he begins to shout.

"Izaya! I'll kill you!"

His only response is nothing more than mocking laughter.

* * *

_"You don't trust Orihara-san?"_

_The young doctor gives him a look that borders on the line of disbelief. "Do you?"_

_The rebound question surprisingly shocks the yakuza member, but he regains his composure soon after._

_"I just assumed you and the info broker were close friends."_

_When the doctor doesn't answer, the leader starts to scrutinize him. The young man doesn't give anything away as the bright glare on his glasses hides whatever negative emotion he is feeling. It's palpable, so he wonders what could affect the jolly man in such a way._

_"That has nothing to do with this," he says eventually. "Contact someone, but just not him."_

_Shiki gives a tense nod. "I'll see what I can do." He gestures towards the door. "You may leave if you have nothing else to say."_

_He does so with a respectful, brief smile and leaves soon after. When the door closes, Shiki hesitantly inspects the photograph and documents the doctor had left for him. Even if he doesn't believe in this kind of stuff, to dabble, or even poke at these things is dangerous. He has a bad feeling about it._

_But he owes the doctor, so he'll do what he can._

* * *

Ikebukuro is a city now in partial ruins.

It would have been completely destroyed if it weren't for Simon and Dennis stepping in at the last second. But, Izaya supposes he shouldn't get too annoyed with that. After all, many lives were harmed because of his dear friend. Nothing hurts that animal more than knowing he had ruined lives, and really, that's all the info broker could ask for.

He'll be on the news with his arrest, and maybe this time that Tom guy won't interfere with the charges. Shizuo will be out of his way, for a while at least.

But he had seen that girl, the one he had saved. Izaya remembers the conversation they had earlier and he begins to laugh. She's interesting, he'll give her that much. Simon and Dennis must have warned her about the sly info broker, and she used her knowledge—and his lack thereof—against him.

He had to admit, she got him, and that makes him mad, but…she'll get what's coming to her soon enough.

Now…

Izaya stares at his computer screen for the arrival of the others. If he couldn't get information from that boy directly, then a little peeping won't do any harm through the internet. He gets his knowledge from other sources as well. Taro is his main priority, but it wouldn't hurt to get a direct source on the girl either.

Izaya's smirk grows. "This'll be fun."

* * *

**I'm not neglecting it, I promise. Please leave a review if you want. Your input is always appreciated. Bye.**


	7. Chapter 6: Fabrication

I told you I wouldn't be able to stay away for long! GAH! Usually, when no one really cares much for a story, I don't care much for it either, and that's a bad. But I honestly just write this for my own enjoyment! I ENJOY writing this. Seriously though, I need to stay away and focus on other things. After this, I PROMISE, a small hiatus will happen.

Also, I want to make it clear that Ivy will have NO romantic relationship with any of the cast. Though, like I told a reviewer, she does a have chemistry with a certain character, which is BAD. When I write scenes with them, it's like they are in control, and though that's usually a good thing, in these kinds of fics, you have to be careful.

Anyway, please enjoy this last piece for a small time, and I'll see you until then.

* * *

...

Fabrication

...

* * *

_Somewhere in this city lies a Dullahan. _

_It—or rather she—is searching for something not quite part of her, yet it's more valuable than her own life. She, with her dark steed, roars throughout the streets of Ikebukuro in order to finally silence this fear eating at her._

_She begins to think what would happen when she finally reunites with this object she's searching for. Will she remember her past? Will she forget the present? All the friends and loved ones she has gained because of her loss, will they be nothing more than a long lost dream?_

_It scares her not knowing the answers. She has doubts on whether her quests is the one she's destined for, or if it's some morbid repetition she has no idea how to break. Then that frightening thought putting her in place begins to whisper in ear, reminding her why finding this thing is extremely important._

_She has clues, and she knows it's here, and she'll do whatever it takes to get it back, even if this silent fairy has to do it alone._

* * *

Kanra: So, did you hear what happened yesterday? Heiwajima Shizuo is getting arrested!

Setton: This isn't one of your jokes, right?!

Kanra: Come on, Setton. I was only a few blocks away, I saw everything. He destroyed half of Ikebukuro! Didn't you see it?! I wonder what got him so pissed off.

Taro Tanaka: Yeah, I was right in that area, luckily I was inside.

Setton: He's always doing that, what makes this any different?

Kanra: Well, it's possible he might have killed some people

**0000**

Three Week Later

...

This is the first time she visited him. It's not because she's too busy, or scared, it's just…being surrounded by criminals makes her feel uncomfortable, and not in the conventional sense. It's as if she's home and that's a feeling she doesn't want to associate with at a place like this. So, Ivy avoided visiting Shizuo at all cost, but after what Tom had said about him, she caved.

She even bought him milk.

So now, she's just sitting in a small room, waiting for a man that not even a month ago she had thought was a fictional character. It's weird, yet she's slowly becoming accustomed to this…ordeal. The more her head clears from the subtle panic the more clearly she is able to asses her situation.

So yeah, basically she's in another universe. This is the thing she had suspected _only _happened in fanfiction, but apparently anything's possible. So if she's in another universe, does that mean she doesn't actually exist? Like her father, her back-story, her mom's and dad's past? But, her information showed up in the database for this country—at least, the basic things.

She's confused, and slightly worried. She's need to call home soon to see if her father even remembers her.

But her main priority is Shizuo.

Ivy shivers just as the door opens, but seeing a ticked off blond walk in makes her happier than it should. She's not sure if it's a good thing.

"You look ridiculous." She tries to hide her giggles with coughing, but orange really isn't his color. And since he can't smoke, he's more agitated than usual. She has no idea why seeing Shizuo so grumpy amuses her, she just knows it makes him more predictable.

"Shut up," he growls in his native tongue as he sits down across from her. He lazily waves his hand at the jailers behind him. "I'm not going to kill her, so go away."

This only seemed to make the two more wary of him.

Ivy coughs again, now for the tense atmosphere suddenly surrounding the small room. She stands up and clasps her hands together. "Please? I am fine."

The chubby one shakes his head. "No can do, young lady. He's an extremely dangerous man and I find it extremely difficult for us to leave a guy like this alone with a nice girl like you."

Irritation begins to dominate her, but Ivy is a good liar—as well as an excellent actress. The comment this guy had said—it really pisses her off. She's not something to be protected. She's not a delicate china doll or some bullshit like that. But, whatever let her appearance trick these fools.

The sweet smile she sends them easily fools these idiots for their attention. She bows, like Tom had taught her, and speaks with a sickly sweet voice that obviously comes off as fake. But because of her cute appearance, and delicate features they don't detect the slight bitterness oozing off her voice.

"He good friend. I miss him and I sad we cannot speak alone." She bows deeper. "Please?"

She sounds idiotic, but men usually fall for the innocent idiot girls, and it seems like they are part of that group. She looks between her bangs and silently gives thanks to her father for teaching her how to use her innocent look against idiots like these.

Sighing, the chubby jailer nudges his skinny partner. "Hm, we'll be right out this door."

The other nods, "Just yell if you need help."

When the close the door she straightens up and goes to take her seat. Smiling as if nothing had happened, she clutches her hands together. "So, how have you been?"

She doesn't like the way Shizuo is looking at her. "What the hell was that?"

"Hm, what?"

The blond man sucks the air between his teeth. "The whole innocent act, idiot."

"I see you're more comfortable insulting me in Japanese?" She smirks at his attempt to hide the angry blush on his face. "How cute."

"Shut up." The older man sighs, and eventually calms down. "What are you doing here?"

Ivy shrugs. "Tom told me how angry you've been in here, so I decided to stop avoiding this place and come visit you."

"You scared of jail, or something?"

The girl waves off his concern. She reaches down towards the plastic bag by her feet. "I brought you milk! And it's still cold, too." She waves it in front of him as she says so. "Tom said you like them."

"Thanks," is gruff answer as reaches for the beverage.

Looking at him now, calm despite the location he is placed in she can't help but feel guilty. This is her fault, no matter how she wants to see it in a different matter, all the blame should go to her. If she hadn't intervened with Izaya's plan, then Simon would have been able to stop Shizuo sooner.

Many people were hurt and the city is under construction at the moment. Yet, no one wants to press charges against him, except only one person. But that person was never there in the first place, just her brother.

Namie Yagiri, because of the complex she has for her brother, she wants to stop at nothing to bring Shizuo down. Seiji has been unconscious this whole time, so there's no telling if the actual victim wants to convict Heiwajima. A Yagiri family nearly died, it's been on the news, which has been pissing her off.

Ivy's worried for the kid, but constantly hearing the same news everyday is annoying her, especially when it comes towards an innocent man's freedom.

"Shizuo?"

"Hm?" The blond man wipes the milk off his upper lip and places the empty carton on the table.

"Do you feel guilty, for what happened?"

"You mean that kid?" Ivy nods.

The man sighs heavily, as if the very thought makes him feel as if he has nothing left to live for, but then he smirks, grunting happily. Ivy furrows her eyebrows at his expression, expecting something more angst filled and bitter than this.

He ruined many lives that day, but Seiji had it worse, so why is he acting like this?

He's a sadist, there's no other explanation. _Hates violence my ass_.

"It's not my fault."

"Huh?"

The man, whom many fear, shows a side he only lets out to those who actually give him a time of day. He's surprisingly wise, despite his temper, and he is showing this by that smile he gives people that somehow bring them encouragement, or new sense of hope.

His smirk turns sour, however. "I shouldn't blame myself for something I didn't do, right? The bastard I was chasing ran behind the kid, so he got hit by the vending machine I threw."

"What, are you serious?!" Ivy smacks her hands on the cold, metal table. "Then why the hell don't you tell the authorities."

Shizuo snorts. The way he crosses his arms as he looks down at her with that bitter scowl makes it seem like she's some naïve child. It's pissing her off, and he must have seen her irritation because his face becomes neutral again.

"There are some people you should avoid in this city, Ivy-san."

And that's all he's going to say on the matter. Doesn't matter either way, she knows who he's talking about, and it seemed he used his slight change of plans in his favor. The bastard. Ivy needs to be careful. There's no doubt in her mind that she will end up meeting him, and she has to prepare for that moment.

But first things first.

"You leaving already?" Shizuo questions the younger girl when she gets up and makes her way towards the door.

With her hand on the door handle, Ivy turns towards the large man and sends him an honest smile. "Tom promised he'll teach me today when he comes back from that gig."

"Yeah, speaking of that, aren't you supposed to be speaking Japanese?"

Turning her back to him, she waves off his complaint. "Yes, yes, sensei. I come visit again."

"Bye."

Ivy stops before opening the door. Something in her is angry. Something in her wants to owe this guy who has treated her like an equal this whole time. Something in her knows what she's about to do is probably more stupid than what she did with Izaya, but…Shizuo doesn't deserve to be in here.

"And don't worry, you'll get out soon."

It was whispered, but Shizuo heard it as if she had said it loud and clear. When he looks behind him, he only sees her back walking past the jailers with a firm set of shoulders set out to conjure the world. He slowly gets up and stands still for a few seconds, wondering.

He hasn't known her for very long, but…she's okay.

That doesn't mean he trusts her—no, not by a long shot.

* * *

_Somewhere in this city lies a woman in love. _

_She is, morbidly so, no matter what anybody else says to her. She loves him, and that's why she must protect him at all cost._

_This woman, whom many know and respect, cherishes this boy's life more than her own—more than her own happiness. And so, she looks down upon his sleeping face, all bruised and scarred, and a sudden rage begins to entice her being._

_That monster must suffer, she begins to think. A whirlwind of emotions begins to overwhelm the usually stoic woman, but when it comes to her brother it's as if he has the power to just send her over the edge, and she'll gladly allow him, if that's what he wanted._

_This woman clutches onto her brother's hand and begins praying to a God she longed before thought false. She'll make an exception this time, just so she can see his eyes open._

_This woman, quietly trying to hush her raging emotions, mumbles words that feel alien on her tongue. Frustration overtakes her and just as she's about to breakdown, the door opens…_

* * *

Setton: No? Are you serious?

Taro Tanaka: My friend said he would never do anything like that, but…he did hurt a lot of people.

Setton: They're just rumors. He's scary, but I don't think he's capable of doing something like this.

Kanra: I'm not sure if anyone died, actually, but someone is in a coma because of him.

Taro Tanaka: Really, who?

Kanra: Yagiri Seiji.

Setton: As in Yagiri Pharm?

Kanra: That's the one~! His sister, the owner, is pressing charges.

Taro Tanaka: I go to school with him…er, kind of.

Setton: Wow, it's kind of surprising, isn't it?

Kanra: Not really.

Kanra: Anyway,Taro, didn't you say you were right in the area where he went berserk?

Taro Tanaka: Yeah, why?

**0000**

She just wants to see if him—just this once. But that woman is there. And there are cops all over this floor, but she managed to sneak past some, but that bitch!

What is she doing here just sitting by his room like a pathetic doll! She loves Seiji and Seiji loves her, she needs to be with him! To protect him! But that woman is terrifying, and she doesn't have the courage to confront her at this moment. Mika has all the proof to send this woman and her accomplice to prison, so why doesn't she do it?

Seiji might hate her.

That woman will find a way to end her for good.

She will never get to see her love again.

Namie is a dangerous person, threatening her blindly like this is stupid and idiotic, but she needs to be with Seiji!

So why did she stop? Why is she now standing by this door, listening through the small creak she managed to open? Why is her heart beating as if it will burst through at any second? A woman, someone older than her, but younger than Namie, had kindly, but firmly stated with her clumsy words to stay put. Why did she listen to her?

She said she would protect Seiji.

Even if she had never seen this woman before, or is terrified of how easily is she able to see through her lies, this young woman will keep Seiji's sister away from him—she will distance herself from _their _relationship.

A liar helps a liar to trick another liar, and the corrupted is left speechless. Realizing this, Mika begins to smile.

* * *

_Somewhere in this city lies a woman not exactly from this world._

_On the outside she might appear to be calm and carefree, but internally, there's a tornado of emotions set out to break her down. She questions her sanity for the hundredth time since she came into this place, silently cussing out a storm in her native tongue. She falsely smiles at anyone who makes eye contact, wishing nothing more than to chop her own tongue off._

_Her intentions are good, but her words are not. It reminds her too much of her own father. The twenty year old remembers the expression of her victim and winces._

_But something happens._

_Or rather—she happens._

_Something off of myths and legends bumps into her, and the young girl begins to wonder why she isn't panicking, or screaming, or doing anything she would have normally done if she ever did see this person. But she looks at the familiar motorcycle helmet, seeing on her own reflection, and it's anything but terrified._

_Confusion mars her face, even more so when a phone is shoved towards her eyes._

_It reads, _Do you know where I can find an old painter?

_It takes seconds before the girl realizes who she is talking about, so she nods as she remembers exactly where that old man is supposed to be._

_When she tells this leather-clad myth what she wants to know, it nods in gratitude and runs off._

_The girl thinks for a moment as she watches the fairy go off to her destination. No fear, no panic, no…anxiety, just a simple and mindless sense of normalcy. She's not sure if it's a good thing, but yet, she begins to smile._

_Then she laughs._

_And suddenly, her earlier problem seems so insignificant at the moment. _

_Like a fading, amusing nightmare._

* * *

Kanra: I ran by there, but everything was so dusty.

Taro Tanaka: I didn't see anything myself. I told you, I was inside.

Setton: I think it must have been safer for you to do that.

Kanra: Oh, so your friend lives there, Taro?

Taro Tanaka: Eh, not really. The friend I mention says she lives with those two Russian guys. Also, she was the one who had said not to go outside…but she didn't listen to her own words.

Setton: Did she ever come back?

Taro Tanaka: I'm not sure. I left when the commotion subsided. I haven't seen her since.

Kanra: Does she happen to be a foreigner? Russian?

Taro Tanaka: Yeah!

Setton: How do _you_ know, Kanra?

Kanra: I've seen her hang around Russia Sushi a lot. I tried getting her name, but she doesn't really speak well.

Setton: Kanra…

Kanra: What~?

Setton: Never mind…

Kanra: Anyway, did you happen to catch her name, Taro?

Taro Tanaka: Yeah. Her name is Ivy Feldberg.

* * *

_Somewhere in this city, a Dullahan feels fewer burdens after speaking with that strange old man. So she goes back home, happier than usual at her special's friend joyful greeting._

_Somewhere in this city, the woman in love is biting in her lip as she tries to keep the tears of anger from bursting. She doesn't notice the younger girl just outside the door smiling at her dispenses._

_Somewhere in this city a young woman walks towards Russia sushi, smiling and ignoring all the bad that will occur, as she focuses on the feeling she had felt that only occurs when near her father._

_Somewhere not quite in this city, a man looks at the scar on his hand. He closes his eyes, and begins to mumble. He sees, and looks, and finds it, and he smiles._

_Then, something not quite human finally wakes._


	8. Chapter 7: Chicanery

**This will be shorter than usual because of the mood. It was originally longer, but by the end of this chapter I felt that the first half and second have completely different atmosphere, so I edited them and changed them into two chapters. So this first half of this story will have around sixteen or fifteen chapters.  
Anyway, this chapter is to serve as an introduction to a new character and one of the last chapters focusing on only Ivy. The next one will have more stories and characters.**

* * *

...

Chicanery

...

* * *

_There is a man not quite from this world—a man who hides in a facility away from all the filth and grime. His beautiful eyes glaze upon the cryptic words he is reading over and over again, mumbling the words off of Hamlet as if they are a mantra._

_"'Doubt thou the stars are fire/Doubt that the sun doth move/Doubt truth to be a liar/ But never doubt I love. '"_

_But he soon stops, and silently re-reads the quote. He, who despite reading this Play more than he can count, scoffs almost angrily at the words for the millionth time. He shuts the book, and with his icy gaze, stares up at the white ceiling._

_ "How idiotic." _

* * *

There is a girl carelessly walking through a foreign country as if all the evil in this world isn't constantly peeking over her shoulder. A smile is visible on her full lips as she thinks of the myth she had just spoken to—a legend, one of which is drenched with blood.

Being naturally curious of all things mythical, she's fully aware and informed of the stories involving the Celtic fairies, the Dullahans. The girl knows that the headless woman is something not human and should be feared. In fact, the barely young adult was very terrified at the thought of ever meeting this silent fairy. But instead of the caution, or maybe even the panic she had expected, Ivy Feldberg feels nothing but a blissful normalcy.

It's…weird. Instead of humans filling that role, what some people might call monster had easily calmed the raging emotions she had felt not so long ago. But even so, Ivy is fully aware of the stupidity of her actions. Threatening someone as powerful as Namie Yagiri easily tops the list of the dumbest things she has done.

It worked. However, that doesn't mean the woman won't forget her. Once Seiji recuperates, Namie will find some way to kill off Ivy.

She's not worrying about it. She'd have to thank that Dullahan if ever gets to see her again. But this feeling…it makes her think of her dad.

Ivy looks up, smiling once she sees Russian Sushi in sight. Once she gets home, she'll call her father—or at least try. Making international calls is difficult enough, but calling a man like Vladimir Feldberg would be nearly impossible, but she has to try.

When she enters the restaurant it brings a nice breeze that fills her skin with chills. The humid air outside has annoyingly made her sweat to the point where the hairs at the nape of her neck cling to her skin. Scowling, she wipes off the liquid before kicking the door closed behind her.

She doesn't notice the dark figure sitting at the back of the room, smiling as she makes her appearance

Ivy sits down on the bar stool, waving once she sees Simon come out from the kitchen. "Hey."

He tries to hide it, but Ivy can see the tightness beneath his kind smile. "Hello. How was the visit?"

Shrugging, Ivy leans against her fist also hiding her curiosity with a bored expression. "Nothing special, I guess. It was short, though, I had something I had to do."

"I see."

Simon subtly looks behind the small girl, swallowing nervously. Ivy catches the action, but forces to keep herself in control. This man, though powerful and feared by many, always thinks of others before himself and right now, the way he's acting, it's as if he's trying to look out for her safety.

Ivy shifts her eyes towards the kitchen and notices the hard sneer on Dennis's face. This only causes her to be nervous, since she has never seen the old guy have such a face. What's going on?

Ivy hides her anxiety beneath a large grin. "Hey, Samiya, are you okay? You look kind of ill."

Since almost everybody calls him Simon, including Dennis, hearing his real name catches him off guard.

The large man laughs. "Oh yes, yes, I'm fine. I'm just tired, that's all." Ivy nods. "Are you hungry, do you want to eat?" She shakes her head, but Simon wags his finger. "No, you left in a hurry and didn't eat anything. You will eat good sushi, yes?"

Ivy curls her lip at the thought. "Ew, no. I don't like seafood, Samiya, I told you already. Just give me rice."

"Don't be silly." Simon completely ignores her and gives her fatty tuna he hid beneath the counter. This guy…he knew she would protest. "Fish is good for you. It gives you good protein and a healthy brain. So," he pushes the plate closer to her, "eat."

Though she doesn't like fish, she does appreciate Simon's worry for her. So, she reluctantly takes a bite, not without a face however. Simon laughs at her expression as she swallows the meat down. No, she really hates seafood.

"Are you happy?" Ivy rolls her eyes at the large man's grin.

"I'm off, Ivy. I have a delivery to do," as he says this his blue eyes dart at the back of the room. But before she can look behind her, he waves and takes his leave towards the back. "You can go home if you want. I'm sure Dennis won't mind."

With a half-hearted smirk, she waves him off. "Alright, bye."

Ivy's wide brown eyes sought after Dennis's, but he's disappeared all the way towards the back. The old guy is like Simon in a way; always wanting to protect, but never looking for a fight. Whatever they don't want her to know will cause her to either cause a scene or become violent. The latter case has never been seen, but because of her situation it's only natural that her usually level-headed personality be completely destroyed into a uncontrollable maniac.

Let them think that, if they wish. It's better to prove people wrong than showing them what they expect to see or hear. But…Ivy is an extremely curious girl. Since she was a child she has always been fascinated about the world and all things mythical, which is weird because she fears the unknown more than anything. Her mother bought her books of myths, facts of the earth, history books, etc. Despite finding reading tedious she did enjoy learning about the world. It is part of the reason why she's so damn smart, and the other reason is because of genetics.

Some part of her mind, this twenty-year old is fully aware of the person they are trying to protect her from and knows that she shouldn't try to seek his eyes out, but that nagging breaks her will. Subtly, she looks over her shoulder. She almost takes a breath of relief until she meets the eyes of the person at the back.

Her immediate reaction is to calmly look at the table top in front of her. Ivy uses her dark hair to hide the side of her face so she can freely let loose her expression. If he's going to confront her, she wants to keep herself in control no matter what. So, she wrings her fingers together and swallows incessantly. She silently tells her erratic heart to calm down as she takes deep, silent breaths.

It suddenly feels hot.

Why? She wonders, of all days, why today? Not even a few hours ago she dealt with a person whose power brings constant fear throughout many, but this man can even make Namie Yagiri eat out the palm of his hand. Someone this intelligent and intimidating terrifies her.

Yet, she tells herself to calm down because unlike him, she has an advantage. She knows everything about him—everything. And he knows nothing of her.

Yeah, she can do this.

So when she sees his body calmly walking towards her with his fist stuffed into his hand, as if thought of ruining her life doesn't affect him, she keeps her head forward and tries to keep calm. He wants to see her worried and scared.

Ivy keeps her expression neutral even when the space between is the length of her hand.

"Dennis, would you mind giving me half a dozen fatty tuna to go?"

The old man comes out from the kitchen, and though his face is calm and kind, Ivy, and no doubt Izaya, can see the caution in the way his blue eyes sway between the two of them. The young girl can practically feel the informant's amusement.

"Sure thing. Just wait a couple of minutes."

When the kitchen door closed behind him, Ivy makes the first move.

With a tight, false smile, she pushes her plate towards the man. "You eat this?" Ivy points towards the sushi on her plate. "You have it, yes?"

His all knowing eyes can already see through the flimsy act, but he plays along with her. She doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing.

"Thanks," he says with a closed-eye smile. He takes one fatty tuna and plucks it into his mouth. His cheerful hum isn't faked, though why should he hide his likes and dislikes of such insignificant things? She knows everything about his life, so this genuine act doesn't bother her.

However, now it's kind of different, and he must have figured it will bother the calm girl to some extent. Ivy knows Izaya will be truthful to her no matter what, it is how he's going to confront her that worries her.

So it honestly took her by surprised when he bluntly stated her name. All he had to do was look at her with those damn eyes and say, "Ivy Feldberg, I presume," and she's loss for words. Izaya knowing her name isn't what bothered her, it's how blunt he was.

Orihara, the one she knows, always says and does things subtly and in an almost twisted philosophical manner. He never, ever says anything upfront unless he's blatantly threatening someone, like he does with Shizuo and Anri.

Ivy composes herself soon after, though her smile seems harder to keep up. "Yes…um…"

"How do I know?"

Her brown eyes follow his body as he sat to the stool next to her. The way he lazily leans his elbow on the counter lets her figure out that he knows more than he lets on—that and his obvious smug grin. But she swallows her anxiety and nods.

The older man reaches behind his back and gets a small book. At first, Ivy had no idea what it is exactly, however, once she sees the blue cover filled with chibi doodles, it becomes apparent what it is and who it belongs to. She lost her sketchbook the day Shizuo got arrested. It was the least of worries, to be honest, though the emptiness she had felt throughout the month is becoming more and more pronounce.

Seeing it now brings her mix feelings. Ivy is happy to see it—really. But, Izaya has it, which means he has gone through all the drawings in there, some of which are personal to some extent, like a drawing of her father's eyes and her mother's scarred arm. Without thinking, she snatches the sketch book from him, flipping through the pages to see if there is any tampering or tearing. Besides the dirt, and some feet stains on the cover, it's in perfect condition.

Hesitant, though thankful in some ways, she bows her head. "Thank you."

"I found it after Shizu-chan got arrested. I assumed it was yours."

"Wh-why?"

Ivy tries to keep her face curious instead of worried as the man in front of her subtly begins mocking her with his observant eyes. "The internet is such a wonderful place, hm? I mean, think about it, you can learn anything you want in a blink of an eye." He shrugs. "Of course some information is harder to find than others, but even then, it's not impossible to get what you want."

The young girl's shoulder sag, knowing he found her name through the internet and used it to his advantage. Hopefully, he wasn't able to hack into her father's system. It holds all of her family's personal information, etc. If Izaya did find out about it, then that would be great trouble. Still, even if he doesn't know her father's secrets—Ivy's as well—this man knowing even a small amount of her history leaves her out in the open.

"I have to say, Ivy-chan, I wonder what wonderful secrets you have in that wonderful head of yours, and why you're so keen on releasing Shizu-chan from jail when it's obvious he almost killed Seiji-kun." He isn't lying, but the mockery in his voice is proof enough that what happened to Seiji was pure accident on Shizuo's part.

She can assume Naomi tattled. How else he could have known about her plans?

Still, she keeps her face from showing any amount of discouragement. He will enjoy it and it exploit without so much as breaking a sweat. However, the more she tries to play this game, the more he'll push her buttons, so in the end she feels relief once she releases her innocent act and replaces it with a burning glare.

"What do you want from me?" Her Russian tongue leaks detest and anger, though it only makes his eyebrow quirk.

No matter how much she hates him, she had made it her plan to keep this douche far away from the three teenagers. She'll suck it up for now.

"I want to know how you know, Ivy-chan." He laughs at her shocked expression. "Do you take me for some kind of idiot? I've been doing research on you, and from what Naime-san mentioned, you seem to know much more than you let on."

She shifts uncomfortably when he moves a bit closer. "Let's see…you know about Harima Mika, what happened to her and where she is in this exact moment. You know that the human trafficking is funded by Yagiri Pharm. You know seem to know a lot of this…head—Celty, is what you call it? And a lot more, so—" his voice becomes louder as he finally gives her room to breathe, though the mockery is thicker than ever, "in the four weeks you've been here, what I want to know is how you know all this, Ivy-chan."

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

He stays silent for a few seconds. To some it might seem like he's trying to respond to the overly rude statement, but she saw the way his smile began to become more annoyed than mocking. It's becoming harder not to panic every time she shifts her eyes to his.

But in the end, he laughs and that anger hides behind false amusement. "Hm, maybe your right. Sorry."

Right after he says that, almost as if he knew, Dennis come out from the kitchen, with a bag in one hand, and hands it over to Izaya's. For the first time since the old man left, the informant takes his eyes away from her, sending a closed-eye grin to Dennis that makes his own fake smile almost painful to look at.

Izaya bows lazily. "Thank you, Dennis-san." When he pays his dues, he turns his icy gaze towards her. "See you later, Ivy-chan."

As soon as he leaves it's as if a ton of weight has been lifted off her shoulders. However, she's left shaken and not quite right emotionally. When Dennis tries to speak with her, she couldn't even open her mouth, so she shakes her and goes to the apartment.

But even in the comfort of her new home, fear begins to take over as she discovers a harsh scar burned onto her back.

* * *

_When he closes his eyes, he can see through her eyes. The girl is petrified at the little design embedded onto her skin. It's a special design on the middle of her back, though small. It isn't much of a surprise that she hadn't noticed it sooner, since she isn't egoistical and almost fears looking at herself in the mirror._

_But it's there. _

_On the reflection, he is able to see the horror in her eyes, even with this distance between them he can tell it isn't because of the scar, but the meaning. However, she doesn't remember anything. How pathetic; people like her can easily fall prey to this blood-filled world._

_His amusement soon stops once she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. Knowing what and who it is, he snaps back into his own mind. _

_Now with his charming eyes open, he lets out a curse, but soon tries to relax as he reads a random passage in Hamlet._

_"Why, then, 'tis none to you, for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. To me it is a prison."_

_For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so._

_It replays in his head like a mantra. He dissects the words, trying to find some truth in Shakespeare's master piece. But in the end, this man can only scoff at such naïve sayings. It's ridiculous._

_Completely ridiculous._

* * *

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